


The Magnum Opus

by NeverBeyondRedemption



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Escape, F/M, False Identity, Friendship, Hogwarts, Muggles, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Nurmengard, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Philosopher's Stone(s), Potions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 86,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverBeyondRedemption/pseuds/NeverBeyondRedemption
Summary: Gringotts and Hogwarts have failed to hide it, so as a last resort Dumbledore turns to the only other place that can rival them. Nurmengard, warded by two of the brightest wizards of all time and almost faded from memory. But hiding it from one Dark Lord puts it within easy reach of another and it might just be the missing piece that lets him escape.Idea credit to Darth Krande, written with permission.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Darth Krande's 'Magic finds a way'.  
> (https://archiveofourown.org/works/16813510)  
> I was kindly given permission to write this.

The only way to mark the years in his cell was by the temperature. Winters were easy to discern from summer as ice crusted over his blanket and snow drifted through the small window. It was cruelly cold but at least there was something to do as he used his bed pan to shovel the snow out through the window. He’d discovered the first year that the snow would melt into a thick slush over the floor otherwise and it would become wet as well as cold.

Summer was a different form of torture. Although it was warmer he would have nothing to do except lament his lost freedom. The only satisfaction that he still had was wandless magic – it was weak, pitiful compared to the impressive feats that he used to achieve but it was better than nothing.

He didn’t miss the irony of course; he was now reduced to little better than a muggle after years of saying how pathetic they were. How he had championed powerful magic but was now struggled with anything more than a heating charm.

Not that a wandless heating charm was anything to be scorned and it certainly had improved his quality of life when he had finally achieved it. Now he could warm his dinner and even cast the charm on the remains of his blanket to create a temporary warmth bubble.

Of course, he had spent years examining his wards, those immaculate enchantments that he had designed himself. Oh again, the irony of that. The hours he had spent perfecting those wards, making them impenetrable and unbreakable, ironing out any weakness. Of course, there was a weakness but without a wand he was helpless to exploit it.

So he focused on his wandless magic, honing his magic into a weapon even as his body degenerated. If he ever managed to get his hands on a wand, he would become a force to be reckoned with.

He poured himself some water from the tap in the wall. It splashed out in an icy torrent, drenching his feet and the floor before gurgling down the drain in the corner of the cell. He filled his chipped mug, then focused, channeling his magic into warming the water. It took a lot of effort but the result was a close to civilized living as he could manage. He folded his blanket into a rough approximation of a cushion and laid it on the window seat, sipping on his hot water as he observed the outside world.

It was late spring or early summer– the snow line beginning to rise up the mountain towards his fortress and purple heather blooming below it. The patch that always melted earlier than the rest on the mountain opposite had gone from looking like a thestral to a dragon, a change which usually happened only a few weeks before he could sleep without a warming charm.

Something bright was climbing the mountain towards him. He shut his eyes, frustrated by the trick before opening them again. No, that was definitely something – a person almost certainly by the bright russet and gold robes. He must have blended into the heather this far.

The prisoner watched the figure maneuver his way across the difficult terrain, the constant mountain wind blowing his long silver hair and beard out behind them. Grindelwald waited for the wards to go off, to alert the ICW of the visitor’s presence but he crossed the boundary with no resistance. That meant the wizard could only be one person – the wizard that had imprisoned him here in the first place. Albus Dumbledore.

The famous light wizard disappeared out of view, but the prisoner counted down instead. As expected, roughly thirty minutes later, footsteps were heard coming up the stairs outside his cell and the door opened with a moan of rusted hinges.

‘Albus.’ The prisoner croaked, his voice not a hoarse as one would expect from a man who hadn’t held a conversation in half a century.

The mentioned wizard stood cautiously in the doorway, wand drawn and ready as he surveyed the prisoner who sat on the window seat. The prisoner surveyed him in return, taking in the creased skin and silvery hair and the beard that disguised the scar from the cutting curse that had almost beheaded him in their first encounter months before that fateful duel.

The wizard wore an almost garish set of robes covered in tassels and frills that would have made even the dumpiest housewife proud. The beard was tucked into the matching sash and he held the pointed hat in his hand, folded in a way that implied it had been recently used to wipe the sweat that glistened on the old wizard’s brow.

‘Gellert.’ The visitor replied, entering and shutting the door cautiously behind him. He looked around for a moment as if hoping for a seat, then shrugged and conjured a plush purple armchair, strategically placed in front of the currently unlocked door. Gellert allowed a sneer to cross his face as the other wizard situated himself comfortably.

‘What do you want, Albus.’ He demanded after a moment of silence.

‘Who says that I don’t just want to chat?’ The other relied blithely and Gellert laughed humourlessly.

‘It’s been half a century and you haven’t visited. I doubt you’ve decided to come and chat now.’

‘I fear you’ve caught me. I must know if your visions still serve you?’ The British wizard asked and Gellert considered the best way to answer. This question was a test, he could tell that much but he wasn’t sure what his old friend was hoping to receive as an answer.

‘They do.’ He finally answered cautiously.

‘Ah, excellent. Have they kept you informed as to the current situation in Britain?’ Albus looked cheerful, which Gellert took to be a positive sign. The other wizard had never been able to mask his emotions.

‘If you mean the Potter boy and his prophesy, then yes I am aware.’

‘Ah excellent.’ Albus declared, rummaging in his cloak and pulling out a brightly coloured crinkling package. ‘I got these at that little village nearby. They’re called “Kinder Bars”, I thought you might like them.’

Gellert considered the wizard opposite him and the proffered sweets, weighing up the act of seeming kindness. Eventually, the desire for something other than cold porridge won out and he shuffled awkwardly across the room to take one of the chocolate bars, power plays be damned. Albus seemed to take this as some kind of sign because he flicked his wand in a display dazzling to the untrained eye. Another armchair appeared with a pop across from an elegant circular coffee table, a second wave of the wand later and a floral teapot with matching cups materialized. Gellert obligingly used the tap to fill the pot as the other wizard dispensed the remaining chocolate bars on a decorative plate and carefully measure out tea leaves.

Minutes later, Gellert was seated in a comfortable chair, holding a steaming cup of aromatic tea and doing his best to not inhale the chocolate bars. Of course, he knew that none of this came without strings but it was worth it. After all, anything would break the monotony of his imprisonment and the chocolate was rather good.

‘So, the Potter boy?’ Gellert prompted and Albus smiled serenely. He had certainly changed in the years since they had met, the light wizard never would have worn that expression when Gellert was still free. He was far too energetic and active for such an emotion, driven by his passion.

‘Ah, Harry. He has just finished his first year at Hogwarts.’ Albus began and Gellert waited for the old man to begin. He wasn’t sure if he appreciated this new Albus, he seemed far less emotional which would make manipulating him far more difficult. The dark wizard made a motion for Dumbledore to continue, which he did after he had meticulously unwrapped a kinder bar.

‘Voldemort – you know who he is? Marvelous, anyway, he survived his defeat on Halloween and somehow managed to inhabit the back of a Professor’s head…’ Albus paused and peered at his old friend over the top of his glasses. Gellert shrugged but didn’t bother to answer the unspoken question. There were many ways to avoid death and without further information it was impossible to know which method had been used.

‘Alas, I hoped you at least would know more. At least he is not back to full strength, he seems to have fled this time.’

‘But you know how he intends to regain his body; at a guess you kept it in your school? He wouldn’t have done something so risky for mere revenge.’ It was the longest sentence Gellert had attempted in a long time and it appeared his accent had thickened; half a century of mumbling to himself in German had done nothing to improve his English.

The long pause answered his question and Gellert cackled.

‘The Potter boy managed to retrieve it before Voldemort but I find myself at a loss as to where to keep it now, if even Hogwarts was not secure enough.’

It was rather obvious really, which almost made Gellert laugh again. There was one place in the world more secure than Hogwarts and it had almost faded from memory. Nurmengard was a fortress that Voldemort could not hope to penetrate without physically tearing down the stone walls, should he even think to look there. Its wards had been built by one of the greatest minds of the century, and then reinforced by the only wizard that could hope to rival him. Even if Voldemort did manage to get inside, he’d find the very essence of his dark magic trapped him here in the same way Gellert was trapped.

‘What is it?’ Gellert asked as he took the second last chocolate bar from the plate, carefully forcing any trace of excitement from his face.

‘The Philosopher’s Stone.’ Albus answered, removing a fist sized package from his robe and passing it to the dark wizard opposite him. Gellert had to try very hard to quell his excitement as he took the precious object, allowing the purple velvet to fall open.

The stone gleamed in the dim light with an almost bloody hue. It refracted across the floor with an inner luminescence that betrayed the rock’s magical properties. He looked at it from different angles, inspecting the chipped face where Flamel had made his immortality potions. He rose and shoved it unceremoniously under the pallet that served as his bed.

‘I do hope you’ll visit to check up on it.’ He said as the visitor stood, readying himself to leave. The dark wizard would never admit that he had enjoyed this evening. Albus nodded as he vanished the armchair blocking the doorway, then with one last glance he disappeared down the hallway and the door shut and locked behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was winter when Albus next came to visit. Gellert was curled in the chair that had yet to disappear when the wizard stormed in and started ranting about foolish committees and weak willed boards. Gellert didn’t understand half of it but he smiled all the same. Albus was just as emotional as usual, sure age and experience had tempered his tendency to rush into things but there was still hope for manipulating him. Albus’ presence here alone meant that he had been somewhat successful in convincing the other wizard that he was harmless and that their relationship was salvageable. The more Albus trusted him, the greater the chance that Gellert could slip through his fingers.

The dark wizard focused on the ranting, trying to figure out exactly why such a respected wizard had appeared this late at night when he should have been at his school. Eventually, among the torrent of English he managed to pick out something about a chamber and the board of governors.

With the true reason for this disturbance still a mystery, Gellert managed to interrupt the wizard after several minutes and Albus finally fell silent.

‘It appears that I missed the beginning of this story, Albus.’ Gellert drawled, forcing his frozen limbs to uncurl so that he was lounging casually rather than desperately preserving warmth. The visitor turned to him and frustratedly explained exactly what had happened. Of course, Dumbledore was easily assuming that these attacks had something to do with Voldemort and he’d come to verify that Gellert still had the stone kept safely in his cell.

The dark wizard confirmed, but made no move to leave the chair, unwilling to give up the only warmth that he had managed to retain until he could shovel out the snow in the morning. Albus seemed content with just a verbal confirmation at least, and he conjured himself another chair and settled down as if to chat.

Gellert didn’t complain when the other produced another packet of sweets, this time a large bag of Dominostein. He poured them both a dark coffee and seemingly noticing for the first time how cold it was, conjured a thick blanket each.

‘So how have you been?’ The light wizard asked, avoiding the obvious hippogriff in the room. Dumbledore looked over the diagrams carved into the wall with obvious interest, even though Gellert knew that unless the other wizard had finally deigned to learn German, he wouldn’t understand them.

‘Bored.’ Gellert finally decided to say. It was a neutral enough answer, unlikely to give any hint as to how he’d been working on his magic and hopefully enough of an answer that Albus wouldn’t pursue it any further. ‘I assume you’re kept busy as headmaster?’ It really was frustrating how his accent had returned after so many years of trying to iron it out.

He listened as Albus talked animatedly about his research on dragon’s blood. It was during this that Gellert discovered that his name was also on a chocolate frog card, which Albus promised to send him when he next had a chance. Even though Gellert really had no interest in dragon’s blood and its uses in household charms, he was happy to listen to the other’s ideas and thoughts if it meant hearing him speak.

Albus was happy to talk for several hours before he finally decided to press Gellert on how he’d occupied his time. And so the dark wizard showed him how the rocks on the other side of the valley looked like a ship and explained how if the moon was just right it would reflect on the ceiling like a witch on a broomstick. He explained some of the drawings on the walls, not bothering to hide that the older ones were meant to help break the warding. Albus would be suspicious if he hadn’t at least tried to break out. Of course he made sure to inject just the right amount of humour as he described his various attempts.

Albus laughed a lot and seemed to believe him until eventually Gellert ran out of things to say and the two wizards settled down on their chairs with a brandy. Albus was quick to fall asleep in his chair, sprawled uncomfortably with his beard slung over his shoulder. Gellert remained awake, watching the moon set through the window. He considered stealing Albus’ wand, fighting internally over the desire to be free and knowledge that Albus had almost certainly warded his person to stop such an occurrence.

The familiar handle protruded out of the sleeping wizard’s sleeve and it sung to the darkness within Gellert. Of course, the elder wand was not built to be a light wizard’s wand. It craved the destruction of dark magic almost as much as Gellert did. He knew that it would take very little for the wand to change ownership but he would only get one chance.

Now was not it.

Albus seemed pleased and surprised when he woke to find Gellert already awake, confirming his theory that leaving the wand “defenseless” had been a test. One that he’d passed with flying colours.

He’d already eaten his daily bowl of cold porridge, improved by the remaining Dominostein and a heating charm and shoveled most of the snow out of the window. It was rather satisfying to see how soft his friend had become in his old age. Years of safety and comfort meant that he slept in until late morning despite someone nearby being less than quiet.

It was a weakness Gellert would be happy to exploit as his imprisonment had kept him harshly conditioned.

That being said, he still wasn’t planning to share his meager breakfast just for the purpose of gaining an ally. Albus however seemed to have no such reservations with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of tea and coffee in his cloak and pulled two rosy apples from somewhere about his person

This time, when the other wizard left it was with a long, measuring look that Gellert pretended not to notice.


	3. Chapter 3

Albus made several brief visits over the remainder of the year, each time looking more tanned and wearing a set of robes more garish than before. He didn’t leave behind any more luxuries but the dark wizard didn’t need them. He had a goal now and that was to escape. He’d renewed his search into a weakness in the wards and wandless magic became an obsession.

It occurred to him one morning as he took a break to drink a cup of warm water on his window seat that he might have been going about escape entirely the wrong way.  A muggle aircraft moaned far overhead as it crossed the sky and Gellert’s brilliant mind was quick to form a surprisingly simple plan.

It was impossible to conceal his excitement from Albus at his next visit; there was an animation to his movements that he had been almost unable to disguise. Fortunately the tidbit of information that he’d withheld earlier could now be put into great effect. It had taken him less than a week to realize Albus’ problem at Hogwarts was caused by a basilisk but he’d said nothing because the light wizard visited him far more often when he wasn’t gainfully employed.

With this piece of information, the headmaster apparated away and Gellert was free to assume that he’d be left undisturbed for several weeks at least. Not that he intended to remain in Nurmengard for that long anyway.

He concentrated for a moment and cupped his hands, blowing into them gently. Blue light flared up suddenly and spilled from his hands to form a ball of flames on the floor. He smashed a hole in the coffee table and placed it over the fuelless flames, them his chamber pot took the form of a cauldron balanced on top. He filled it with water from the tap, then let it boil over the flames.

He pulled the chicken drumstick from where it had been stashed down the back of his chair after Albus’ last visit. He stripped the flesh and dropped the bone into the pot, using a wooden splinter from the tabletop to stir anticlockwise twice. The potion hissed as he added a long strand of Albus’ beard that had been stuck to the chair and turned a cloudy mauve. He began to recite an old incantation, dropping in a still living spider.

When the potion turned grey he paused and had to extinguish his cauldron stand that had begun to smolder. Then he reverently removed the stone from beneath his blankets and smashed it into the wall. A shard about the size of his thumb nail broke off. He repeated the action, then gathered the razor sharp stone pieces, clenching them in his fist even as they split the skin.

He repeated the incantation again, waving his free hand over the chamber pot as if he held a wand, then opened his other hand, dropping blood coated shards of philosopher’s stone into the mixture. Steam exploded from the small pot with a sound like a train whistle and black flames licked across the surface. Gellert observed it with a grim smile before retrieving the delicate china cup and carefully pouring a measure of the potion out. He held it up to the window as if in a toast.

‘To Albus Dumbledore; the wizard who fails to see the evil in us.’ He purred before downing the cup. Without hesitation he plunged the cup back into the potion for another dose, downing it even as his face screwed up in pain. Black fire burned down his skin as he drank the third cup full and he was on his hands and knees to drink the fourth straight from the chamber pot having dropped the cup and smashed it.

He lost consciousness as the last drop passed his lips, consumed in a world of fire and ice.

He regained consciousness the following morning and wondered for a moment why he was on the floor. Then he noticed that the ever present pain in his knees had gone and sat up quickly, everything rushing back to him. His hands flew to his face, brushing against smooth unlined skin. He ran them over his scalp, disappointed to find that it was bald and hoping that his hair would grow back eventually. He stood up and stretched his pale, flawless limbs and embraced his magic. It flowed through him with more power than he had ever experienced; a combination of his strong youthful body and the discipline of old age. He looked for the first time around the cell, noticing the charred walls and furniture. The couch had been burned of all its padding and the chamber pot was a twisted hunk of metal.

The philosopher’s stone alone remained untouched, although the two shards that he had broken off were massive scars in its otherwise perfect facets. His clothes had been burned to cinders but he could easily acquire new ones once he obtained his freedom.

As a last touch, Gellert picked up the charred coffee table and used it to scratch a message to Albus on the wall. Then looked out of the window and up at the muggle aircraft that always crossed the sky at midday. He pointed pristine finger up at it and spoke the incantation, he had to wait for a moment for the magic to make contact, then there was a brief resistance as he fought to overcome the engines. Abruptly the resistance stopped and Gellert saw smoke suddenly pluming out from behind the aircraft as it rocketed towards him.

He held the spell tensely as the mass of metal rocketed closer, then just before it hit the wards he released his magic and as expected the plane fell through without resistance. The ward’s weren’t tuned to stop non-magical items passing through. Of course, the alarms would have gone off in the ICW but the plane collided with the base of the tower and exploded in a plume of fire and smoke.

Simultaneously the wards fell, their shattering masked by the explosion of the plane. He’d hit his target perfectly, decimating the ward stone and bringing down Nurmengard’s defenses with it.

The dark wizard didn’t allow himself a moment to celebrate, taking off at a run to his old rooms. His original wand was still in his wardrobe and the emergency bag that he’d packed back in 1945. He allowed himself a savage grin as he grasped his wand and disapparated with a crack.


	4. Chapter 4

Albus was unsurprised when the emergency owl arrived from the ICW to tell him that Grindelwald had escaped. His own alarm system had already alerted him several hours before but he’d seen no point in responding, his former friend wouldn’t have bothered to set off the alarms if he didn’t have a firm plan to escape before anyone could respond.

He attended the summons anyway, curious to at least figure out how the other wizard had done it. He apparated to a safe distance from the fortress, not knowing what to expect and whether it would be safe to come close.

The fortress itself seemed mostly untouched, aside from the twisted metal remains that scattered the ground around it. A muggle aeroplane at a guess, from the fuelage and luggage that was scattered about. The site was crawling with ICW wizards, some herding up the confused muggle survivors that appeared to have already been obliviated by the magical backlash. Others took photographs of the wreckage but it was the Assistant Mugwump who caught Albus’ attention with his frantic waving. Albus picked his way up the mountainside towards the Frenchman, who began speaking as soon as Albus was within hearing distance.

‘…impact was almost perfectly through the wardstone.’ Albus tuned out the babble as he carefully climbed up to the wardroom. The nose of the plane had been melted by the magical backlash as it plowed straight through the heavy stone that had acted as an anchor for all the wards that were active on Nurmengard. He could easily see the daylight through the three solid stone walls that the massive aircraft had decimated.

‘Sir?’ Albus looked down at his assistant with a measure of surprise, having almost forgotten that the man was there.

‘Pardon?’

‘He’s left a message, Sir.’ The assistant repeated and Albus grimaced, hoping that his enemy hadn’t implicated him. ‘In his cell.’

Albus swept up the now familiar staircase, noticing as he did that there was a set of bare footed prints going downwards, almost lost in the booted tracks of the investigating wizards. He wondered if anyone had noticed them, or worse noticed his own multitude of tracks. He’d have to burn his incriminating pairs of shoes as soon as he returned to Hogwarts.

The cell looked like a wildfire had swept through, carbon stains streaked up the walls and the two pieces of furniture that remained were burned husks. There was a twisted lump of metal on the floor and several blackened pieces of china. What quickly caught his attention though was the message painted in charcoal across the wall.

 _“I will guard it as promised but I will not be imprisoned.”_ Underneath that was the symbol of the hallows, except the circle had been drawn in a reddish brown substance that was almost certainly blood. It was a message that was blatantly obvious to Albus and his mind was running over the possibilities even as he denied any understanding to the ICW investigator.

He returned to Hogwarts in a state of shock, deciding in a moment to cancel exams so that he would have more free time to search for his missing dark wizard. The vanquishing of the beast in the chamber of secrets would serve as reasoning enough for the rest of the faculty.

It was nothing but a foolish mistake, he realized, an oversight that had been so obvious that it had never occurred to him to correct it. Why stop non-magical objects after all? Anything that could be thrown would have little effect on the castle and it would just cause problems with the weather.

And of course, he had only altered the wards to prevent Gellert from passing through them to escape. They would never have been designed to stop a spell passing through from the inside – again why would Albus have added such a precaution when the imprisoned wizard was wandless. He had evidently underestimated just how powerful wandless magic could become if hones far enough. Again, a foolish mistake when the ancient warlocks had never used wands but had achieved impressive feats of magic none the less.

He pulled out a parchment and began a list of all Gellert’s known hiding spots, cross referencing with his schedule to decide when to visit each old haunt. The chances of the dark wizard being in any of these places was small but at least Albus could claim to be doing something. On a second piece of paper, Albus began drafting an official statement to be made by the ICW for when the prophet inevitably discovered this disaster.

He was still drafting this statement when he received another emergency communication, this time from the British Ministry of Magic. Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban and the only information they had was that he’d been mumbling about Hogwarts in his sleep.

For a minute Albus just stared blankly at the letter, unable to believe this wasn’t related but knowing there was no way the two incidents could be. Gellert didn’t even know Sirius Black existed and as far as Albus was aware had no motivations to free him. Unless Sirius black had been the one to free Grindelwald, if someone had used a wand outside the wards to direct the plane it would have been far more plausible.

He tried to place himself in the position of Sirius Black for a moment, imagining that he had just escaped Azkaban and discovered himself alone and without friends. It would certainly make Grindelwald an attractive target, especially if Black believed the former dark wizard could somehow help his master. Of course, Grindelwald had the stone, which would mean it was perfectly within his power to resurrect the other dark lord.

Of course, the message didn’t fit with that theory but it would certainly make how he had escaped more plausible that alternative of wandlessly summoning the plane and managing to so accurately hit the ward stone. It was easy to plant a message after all, it could have been done to distract him.

So if Black had Grindelwald’s knowledge and the stone, it was only a matter of time before he raised his previous master, or Grindelwald seized control and made a move. That made finding Black his highest priority.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione flipped the page of her newest transfiguration text, scribbling a note into her muggle notebook as she did. It hadn’t been difficult to guess that “Standard Book of Spells – Grade 3” would be on her book list for the next year so she’d persuaded her parents to stop by Diagon Alley to purchase it on the way back from the station. She’d need every head start that she could get with the extra workload she planned to take on.

A shadow fell across her and she looked up to see a tall man standing over her. She hurriedly pushed her notepad over the wizarding text, hoping that he hadn’t seen it but his hand snapped out too fast, preventing her from covering it.

His eyes were different colours, she noticed as he scanned the text. He had a buzz of short dark blond hair over his head and his clothes were well made but very old fashioned. He wore a necktie with his billowy white shirt and jacket, a coat draped over his arm.

‘You’re a witch.’ The man stated and Hermione finally relaxed, understanding why he had seemed so interested. It was hardly common to meet another one of their kind in the muggle world. ‘A Hogwarts student I would guess?’

Hermione nodded and the man smiled genuinely, which seemed to light up his face.

‘I attended Durmstrang myself.’ Which made sense, because he looked young enough to have only recently graduated but Hermione didn’t recognize him. It also explained the German accent and the almost military haircut that seemed to only just be beginning to grow out.

‘Hermione Granger.’ The young witch offered out her hand for him to shake and the wizard returned the gesture with a grin.

‘Gerard Abernathy, hopefully I’ll see you around.’ He then wandered off across the park, arms swinging casually as he strolled down the left hand fork. He couldn’t live too close to her then, because she had to walk down the right hand one to get home. Hopefully she’d see him again though because he’d seemed nice and intelligent enough. It would be nice not to be totally isolated this holiday.

Sure enough, Gerard passed by the next morning as well, and the next, always pausing to exchange a few friendly words; she quickly learned that he was studying muggle science at a university in London. Apparently his muggle father had insisted that he get a degree and they’d finally managed to agree that this particular one would be transferable enough to help with the career he wanted to have in the ministry.

He was certainly an interesting person, with an incredible disdain for muggles despite his half-blood status and his studies at a muggle university. She could only assume that was as a result of his education at Durmstrang which was notoriously blood-supremecist.

So she made it her mission to introduce him to muggle culture. When he walked past on Saturday she made sure to be using her laptop and offered to show him how it worked. He agreed easily, seeming slightly bemused as she showed him how to take notes and how she could keep her files organized. She ran the calculator and the translation software, then they moved to the shade of a nearby tree to play a little two player video game that had them both trying to move brightly coloured blocks around to escape a dungeon.

Several hours of good humoured arguments later and they had completed the simple game, and Hermione made her excuses, claiming that she had to get home before her parents began to worry.

Unfortunately she was already too late for that and her parents demanded to know why she’d been out past her usual breakfast time. Which meant she had try to come up with an excuse because she was fairly certain that her parents would disapprove of her spending so much time with an adult they had never met.  Unfortunately excuses were not her forte, so her father sat with her the next morning reading the newspaper as she waited for Gerard. She was so nervous that she couldn’t actually relax and instead just ended up anxiously watching the path.

He appeared right on schedule, strolling towards them with a newspaper tucked under his arm. All he needed was a cane and he could have passed as a 20th century gentleman. His blond hair had started to grow out and it seemed he’d had a haircut since their last meeting, his hair now styled so that it swept upwards at the top.

To his credit his steps didn’t even falter as she noticed Hermione’s father but he didn’t take a seat immediately as he usually did. Instead, those strangely coloured eyes flickered between the two of them, quickly making the familial connection. Hermione’s father had noticed his arrival by now and there was a tense moment as both men took one another in, before Gerard bowed and introduced himself, complimenting Hermione just enough to flatter her father but not enough to seem like he was interested in her.

Her father didn’t relax, Gerard’s charm bouncing off his grumpy façade but the wizard didn’t seem fussed as he took his usual seat opposite them and passed her the paper.

‘Black’s been sighted in Suffolk.’ He pointed out the front page article and Hermione obediently read it, even though she was unfamiliar with the name “Black”. Her father tried to peer over her shoulder without taking his suspicious gaze off Gerard.

‘Who’s Black?’ Hermione asked, she was fairly certain that the name was a pureblood one, but she had no idea which black this article referenced.

‘Sirius Black. He’s meant to be the one who betrayed the Potters, he escaped Azkaban a few weeks ago.’ Gerard answered, then he pulled a large book out of his pocket and began studying, completely ignoring Hermione and her father. It surprised her because he’d never studied with her before but she couldn’t deny that it certainly seemed to reassure her father that he wasn’t interested in her as anything more than a studying wizard.

Hermione forced herself to do the same as her father pulled the prophet over to himself and began browsing the continuation of the article on page 3. For several minutes they continued in silence, interrupted only by questions; Gerard asked for clarification on what a “container ship” was, Hermione’s father wanted to know how the dementors kept control and who “Gellert Grindelwald” was.

Gerard looked up quickly with an unintelligible look on his face, staring at him searchingly.

‘What about him?’ He demanded quickly, pulling the paper towards him and scanning the article. Hermione’s father pointed out the section and Hermione craned over the table to read the section.

It was a small reference about how Black was suspected to have orchestrated the release of Gellert Grindelwald but Gerard spent several minutes just staring at the short sentence. A slight cough from her father reminded them that he was still waiting for an answer.

‘Grindelwald was a dark wizard that conquered most of Europe in the 1940’s.’ Gerard finally answered in a tight, measured voice.

‘So how is his escape smaller news that this Black figure?’ Hermione’s father questioned, watching Gerard’s strange reaction.

‘Grindelwald would be about 110 by now and his followers are all dead. Besides, he never had much influence in Britain. My father spent many years in Grindelwald’s prison before his downfall.’

Immediately, Mr. Granger’s suspicion melted into pity as he apologized for bringing up the topic. Gerard smiled and graciously accepted the apology, reassuring him that he wasn’t to know before leaving with a friendly invitation to dinner.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a nasty surprise to discover just how far behind the muggles wizardkind had allowed themselves to become. He’d known they would have made advancements; it was only to be expected in the time he’d been locked away and the sheer size of the muggle aeroplane had been evidence enough of that. What had horrified him was the complete lack of change he’d noticed among wizards in the few visits he’d made to Diagon Alley.

He’d expected new spells, instruments, plant species and creatures but was instead confronted by the same buildings lit by candles and torches. The muggles had managed to put technology in space yet wizards were still trying to tell the future from the positions of the stars. (Anyone with a moderate understanding of astronomy could tell you that a preordained position of a planet only affected the future of two kinds people; potions masters and werewolves.)

Meeting the Granger girl was a stroke of genius that could not be entirely credited to his sight. He’d had the idea to initially contact the Potter boy directly but had eventually decided that there would be fewer security precautions placed around his muggleborn friend. He’d been right of course, she was entirely unprotected and her desire for more contact with the wizarding world had worked solidly in his favour. He now had an almost direct feed on Albus’ activities.

He’d easily managed to fabricate a reason for his presence, enrolling himself in a muggle university to study science. It was truly fascinating what the muggles had managed to discover and even more so what they’d managed to do with it. He’d already managed to come up with several new spells based off the principles that he’d learned.

The suspicious father had been an inconvenience but he believed he’d handled it masterfully, playing the cards just right to gain his sympathy. The dinner invitation was really just an added bonus because Gellert was a terrible cook.

He met them at six, knocking on the door as if he was uncertain that he’d got the right address, then magically produced a bunch of flowers when it was a middle aged woman who answered.

He was shown in, once again astounded by how far muggles had come since his imprisonment. The lights were bright and steady, tinted to a comfortable yellow and completely silent. The kitchen was immaculate, crisp white paint over the ceiling and pale lavender on the walls. Pure white counters carried smart electrical machines whose purpose Gellert could only guess and Mrs. Granger returned to one of them as soon as he was settled in the adjoined living room. A loud whirring noise came from her direction as she started it up and he craned his neck to see her raising and lowering a white stick in a large pot. Seeming to judge it done, she removed the white stick (with a silver attachment covered in red sauce) and pressed a button, detaching the dirty silver attachment and putting it in the sink.

She then put the pot back on a black sheet in the counter and it started to bubble furiously. His fascinated attention was torn away when Hermione bounced down the stairs and into the living room, a large book tucked under her arm.

‘Hello Gerard. How was your test?’

For a moment he was confused, then he remembered that he had indeed had a test at university. He’d passed it with flying colours of course. He didn’t need to wait for results day like the rest of the muggles, he could just tear the knowledge from the teacher’s mind with legilimency.

‘Oh, it was easy enough. There was a question on the forces on a jetski which I had to skip; there wasn’t enough context for me to understand what a jetski is.’ There had actually been a question on jetskis but it had only taken a surface perusal of the other students sitting the exam to find out what it was.

‘How is your transfiguration essay going?’ He asked in return, Hermione beamed as she launched into an explanation of the theory of increasing viciousness to increase the power of mundane spells. It was notoriously difficult to get the correct level of viciousness with every day spells and the inexperienced could easily overpower or underpower them.

She was still going when her mother served up steaming plates of pasta, an indulgent expression on the older woman’s face as she gave her an extra helping of parmesan cheese. Gellert rose hurriedly and offered to help bring the cutlery and drinks around the table. He then pulled out the chair for her before she sat down, which made her giggle. He then cautiously focused on a conversation about lawn mowers with Mr. Granger for most of the meal.

The conversation quickly turned back to him after dinner though, as Hermione was sent to fetch bowls and ice cream from the fridge.

‘So you’re from Germany, Gerard?’ Hermione’s mother asked as she gathered up their plates. Gellert nodded and almost entirely truthfully told them that his mother was from Norway and his father had been a German. He said very little about his youth, there was very little he could say that wouldn’t clue them in to how old he really was. Instead, he talked about his time at Durmstrang and the degree he was studying now, as well as the “foundation” he was taking over summer.

Hermione was then only too happy to respond to his prompting when he began asking about Hogwarts. Most of what she told him was about her last year with the basilisk and the chamber of secrets but he managed to glean small pieces of information that were actually useful. That matron that had been assisting Albus had graduated to Transfiguration teacher, apparently age suited her and she’d actually developed enough backbone to get students to obey her.

There was a new charms teacher who was competent as a dueller, the Defence against the Dark Arts position was rumoured to be cursed and the school hadn’t kept a teacher for more than a decade. Apparently students saw very little of the headmaster but Hermione seemed to think he was a brilliant teacher all the same.

She was also very excited about her electives that she’d be taking next year. She was most excited about the prospect of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. She claimed that she was already starting to get ahead in those subjects but was having less success with divination; she’d tried looking into tea leaves but hadn’t had any clear pictures yet.

Seeing another opportunity, Gellert offered to coach her over the summer. He modestly admitted that he’d always been rather good at it. He honestly told them that his mother had always had a talent for it. By the time Hermione started school, he would have a reliable informant on Albus’ whereabouts.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione had gone worryingly silent towards the end of her fourth year, the prophet had not. Gellert had read wild theories and speculation about the end of the tri wizard tournament, where one of the participants had died. He’d checked only enough to discover that it wasn’t Hermione’s friend; Harry Potter. Then he’d settled down with the expectation of receiving a full update when the young girl arrived home from school

He was not disappointed; a frantic knocking on the door alerted him that she’d arrived, despite the late hour. He could only guess that she’d come straight from the train to the only adult that could truly understand her.

He opened the door and led her through to the living room where he already had takeaway waiting for them. He’d been expecting her and his cooking had certainly not improved since his release. Usually the young witch cooked for him or he ate at her parent’s house. The Granger’s had been suspicious of him at first but they were mostly glad that Hermione finally had a friend near her home.

The young witch managed to hold herself together for all of five minutes before she burst into hysterical tears. Gellert awkwardly handed her his handkerchief as she sobbed, curled up into a ball on her chair. He had to fetch her several new ones, knowing that it would be a death sentence if he performed even a simple drying charm with her trace still active.

He let her cry herself dry, then listened as the whole story poured out. She started from the beginning which he already knew; how Harry’s name had ended up in the goblet and how he’d been selected. She burst into tears again when she told him about the Yule ball; Grindelwald had actually paid the Durmstrang boy a visit to warn him to look after his date, enchanted to look old again of course. Youth was an almost perfect disguise and he’d rather not lose such a simple hiding place.

Instead, despite the Krum boy obediently treating her like a lady, the ginger idiot had ruined her special night.

She then managed to get out the second task, which he already knew about from her letters before bursting into terrified tears again. He made her a hot chocolate with foamy cream, then in the way that had almost become an inside joke, he sprayed the remaining half of the can around the base of the mug to create a fluffy white mountain, disguising the chocolate treat within.

This won him a weak smile, and finally the story of the third task. He listened as Hermione described the events in third hand; how Harry had been port keyed to a graveyard where he’d been used to create a new body for Voldemort. How the reborn dark wizard had attempted to kill her friend, and successfully killed another student. She managed a confused account of how the wands had connected before explaining through great sobs how Harry had returned to Hogwarts and then been captured by the death eater in disguise as their defence teacher.

She explained how once again he had almost died before being rescued by the teachers and then Skeeter had published all those slanderous articles. Gellert had seen those and suddenly understood that although adult witches and wizards that had been in the public eye knew better than to believe them, they had an intimate impact on the vulnerable young witch.

It was well past Hermione’s bed time when she finally fell into an exhausted sleep and he crept to the telephone that she’d taught him to use to call her parents. He explained the situation to them and a worried Mrs. Granger apologised sincerely, promising to be over soon to pick up her daughter

She knocked on the door fifteen minutes later and he let her in, leading her through the home to where Hermione was curled up under a blanket. Her face was still red and her eyes were puffy from crying and Gellert gave her mother an abridged version of events at the end of the year, amazed that no effort had been made to let muggle born parents know what was happening in the wizarding world.

Eventually he helped the shocked mother carry her daughter out to the car and waved them off down the street as he went inside to ponder events and how they would affect him in his current situation. As far as he was concerned, this Voldemort’s return could only be a good thing, after all it would certainly detract Albus’ attention from him. He was perfectly content to spend at least another decade enjoying his peaceful retirement to this comfortable muggle house and blend in with the stress free muggle world for a while.

The next morning, he was still awake, working on the basis for a ward that he hoped would be able to keep him safe without the powerful barrier attracting attention to him. Hermione’s knock made him jump; he hadn’t realised that night had passed into day,

He yawned and stretched, wandering towards the door to let the young witch in. She looked much better, although still solemn as she wandered into the kitchen and began rustling through his fridge.

‘Good morning to you too, Hermione.’ He said lightly, putting the kettle on to boil for coffee. She just scowled at him and pulled out the ingredients for pancakes. It had been a regular event last summer that she would arrive at his house to make herself a dose of the sugary food her dentist parents did not allow. He was perfectly content to let her so long as she made some for him as well. She was an excellent cook.

He pulled out the pan that she would always use, then retreated from the kitchen to continue work on the wards.

Half an hour later, the young witch appeared with a stack of delicious smelling food and he quickly cleared all his research from the table. She put down the pancakes and he tucked into the first one eagerly even before she had returned with the toppings. She giggled at his enthusiasm and spread nutella all over her own before carefully peering over what he’d been working on.

‘What’s this?’ She asked curiously and he explained what he was trying to do. There was no harm in warding after all; it was only to be expected from a full grown wizard.

‘Professor Dumbledore is gathering some organisation he used to have to fight dark wizards.’ She suddenly blurted out and he froze, memories of that group of friends and their vigilante attacks. They were always the ones who did the most damage to his plans. Of course, they hadn’t been named yet when Gellert had still been at large but he’d heard mention of them since.

‘You should join them.’ Hermione said, unaware of the reaction she’d just caused as she sprinkled hundreds and thousands over her nutella covered pancake.

‘What makes you think I’d be any good at it?’ He asked carefully and the witch was silent as she arranged marshmallows across her sickly sweet creation.

‘You’re a very powerful wizard of course. Besides, everyone has something they can do to help.’ She said dismissively. ‘I mean, you’re spell-crafting. Only really good wizards can do that.’

He looked at the sheets of paper and inwardly cursed. He should have known better than to assume she wouldn’t know exactly what she was looking at. She was after all a very smart witch and he’d allowed himself to go lax around her.

He considered being honest and denying her suggestion but she was looking up at him with those big brown eyes and a pleading expression that would make a puppy relent. He caved.

‘I’ll think about it.’


	8. Chapter 8

Albus Dumbledore tapped his quill against the parchment. He had to write a statement to the ICW about progress on the search for Grindelwald.

He had nothing to write, exactly as he had last year and the year before.

The aurors had all but given up, any with real potential having transferred to the task forces that actually achieved something. Now though, Fudge was determined to blame every strange occurrence on Grindelwald and that had brought attention to him. Of course, his lack of results in this position were also being used to discredit him; he was called a friend of Grindelwald and accused of trying to divert attention from his ally.

If only they knew how close they were, and Albus did consider himself responsible for the escape of the dark wizard. After all, he was the one who had allowed the trail to go cold as they hunted for the innocent Sirius Black.

The floo roared, and Albus looked up in confusion; he didn’t remember inviting anyone.

Too late, his wand soared from his hand and into the waiting one of his visitor. Albus stood quickly, a cold rush of fear flooding through him as he looked at the man opposite him. He was painfully familiar; soft blond hair, turning icy at the tips. Those carved cheekbones and low brows, the eyes that focused intensely and made shivers run down his spine.

‘Grindelwald.’ Albus’ voice cracked, true fear running through him for one of the first times since that duel. He’d begun to think he could understand his friend again but he had been duped so effectively that he no longer knew what to expect.

‘Albus.’ The other greeted with a disarming grin, conjuring himself a chair infront of the desk and lounging back, his wand touching his bottom lip as he regarded the Supreme Mugwump. It was a pose so heart achingly familiar, but that coldly calculating gaze had never been directed at a human whilst they were friends. The dark wizard shifted suddenly as if he had decided his judgement, shifting to inspect the elder wand that he had taken from Albus.

‘I’m surprised you retained its loyalty for so long. Oh sit already, you know you’ll have no more of a chance standing than sitting.’ He finally snapped, flicking his wand and forcing Albus down into his chair.

‘How?’ Albus finally managed to make his voice work again, rather than gaping like a fish. The dark wizard tilted his head, seeming to ponder the question.

‘You and Flamel were so wrapped up in your ethics that you missed the true power of the stone. A little dark magic and a potion that I’m more than a little proud of and I had a temporary body that no longer limited my magic. Of course, when I had the proper ingredients I could create a better potion so that I wouldn’t have to constantly drink the elixir like Flamel.’ He looked smug as he held up one pristine, unlined hand for Albus’ inspection.

But the light wizard had seen the marks that Gellert did not show off – the signs of the ravages of dark magic; funny how dark wizards were always vain yet practiced a magic that leeched them of their natural beauty.

The back of his wand hand was scarred with an ancient dark rune to increase his spell power, his palms a mess of white lines from providing blood for his spells. Looking deeper, Albus could see the shattered and twisted debris of his soul, each part webbed back into the whole by strands of darkness. The same bonds stretched between the dark wizard and the Elder Wand that he’d stolen and grudgingly Albus realised that he had firmly won its allegiance. It would be nearly impossible for him, or anyone for that matter, to win it back now that it seemed Grindelwald had unlocked the secret to true eternal life.

He returned to attention to see that Grindelwald was staring at him with that same calculating expression again. The one that Albus had only ever seen him use when trying to understand a particularly complex problem in a book.

‘What do you want?’ Albus finally snapped, fed up with this unnerving observation.

‘I came to offer my help.’ Grindelwald finally admitted, which took a moment to register in Albus mind.

‘Help?’ he asked stupidly, then winced. Gellert hated fools.

‘Yes, help. A friend of mine mentioned that you’d appreciate my help.’

Albus stared at him blankly, confused by the strange offer and puzzled as to who this friend could possibly be. There must be an ulterior motive to all this, Albus struggled to find something, anything that could explain what Gellert had to gain from this and could only conclude that he did honestly want Voldemort dead.

It did make sense when he thought about it, Albus decided. Grindelwald was of course a threat of the younger dark lord and he would be high on the priority list for Voldemort to eliminate. Then again, why would Gellert even bother to come out of hiding? The combined efforts of every ministry in the world had failed to find him, the chances of Voldemort succeeding were small. It wasn’t like he’d been living too harsh a lifestyle, Albus noted, seeing the clean and unbroken nails, the slightly tanned skin and his perfectly styled hair.

Either way, he concluded, Grindelwald was nothing if not a powerful wizard and that was something that could only be an advantage in these uncertain times. After all, if the dark wizard had truly intended to hurt him, he wouldn’t be sitting here any longer.

‘We would appreciate your help.’ Albus finally decided and Gellert smiled his disarming grin. To someone who knew him less, it could be misinterpreted as true happiness but Albus knew that his old friend was incapable of such emotion. In fact, the only real difference between him and the dark wizard they both hoped to defeat was that Gellert understood the power of love and positive emotions, even if he was unable to demonstrate them.

A wand came soaring across the table and he caught it reflexively.

‘I want to make another bond.’ Gellert demanded and Albus flinched at the memory of the one that had previously existed between them. ‘This one will not be so easy to break.’

Albus sighed, then paused to consider what he could get Gellert to agree to on his side of the bargain. It would be worth the risk, he eventually decided.

‘Cut your hand.’ The dark wizard ordered and Albus agreed with a wince. He’d rather hoped this wouldn’t be a blood ritual but he shouldn’t have been surprised. The scars across his friend’s palm were evidence of how much he used this type of magic. Albus fought back the whimper as he sliced into his hand, clasping Grindelwald’s own bleeding hand with his own.

‘Do you swear not aid any person or government in my imprisonment?’ The dark wizard made his first demand and Albus promised not to. A trail of blood wound up his arm and disappeared up his sleeve. He felt the cooling liquid stop over his heart.

‘Do you swear to do your best to defeat Voldemort and his allies in aid of the light?’ Albus made his own demand, knowing as he did that it was loosely worded and wishing that he’d had more time to prepare for this.

‘Do you swear to do your utmost to help me evade capture and punishment?’ Grindelwald made his second demand and Albus agreed unhappily, a second trail of blood twining up his arm to rest over his heart.

‘Do you swear to make no attempt to overthrow any legitimate government?’ Albus made his final demand and Gellert agreed easily. The bloody trails burned against his skin and a moan of pain escaped him as it seared deeper into his soul. Then it was gone as suddenly as it had come and he opened his eyes to see Grindelwald smirking at him.

‘You enjoyed that.’ Albus accused, inspecting the thin white line that was almost invisible on his palm.

‘I did. You’ve gone soft, Albus.’


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione couldn’t decide whether to be sad or excited. She’d only gotten to spend a week in the muggle world, so she’d seen very little of her parents and only slightly more of Gerard. He’d let her help in his spell crafting, which had been the most interesting thing she’d done all year. She was far beyond her depth, so she had realistically been very little help but she’d appreciated that he’d taken the time to show her everything anyway. He’d even put his wards aside to help her develop a spell to dictate a page of text which she just knew would be brilliant when she was writing homework.

She’d tried her hardest to persuade him to join the order, giving him Dumbledore’s floo address and letting him know how to contact him if he changed his mind. She just knew that Gerard was far more powerful that he pretended to be, even though she’d never actually seen him use his wand and she was determined to get him fighting. She just couldn’t understand why he would just sit back and let Voldemort rule.

Of course, he had always hated muggles... no, not hated, just scorned. As if they were servants or even worse, slaves but he didn’t seem to have anything against Muggleborns. He had mellowed since she’d begun her campaign to introduce him to all the wonderful things that muggles had developed. He still seemed to think of muggles as lesser, or maybe other, but he admitted that they had their uses and were certainly a foe to be reckoned with.

He’d only given her vague answers, seeming to want to refuse and hide for the war but not want to tell her. She hadn’t pegged him as a coward but by the time Monday came and she was due to leave, she forced her disapproval behind her and said goodbye to him all the same.

Mr Weasley then picked her up that afternoon and flood her to the new Order of the Phoenix headquarters. The house was gloomy, with dark green walls black floors. Emerald drapes and pale, greenish-yellow lights made the place seem as though light had never touched it. Darker patches on the walls indicated where portraits and decorations had been removed, and Mr. Weasley whispered for her to be quiet as they snuck down the hall and into the kitchen at the far end.

The kitchen was very different – vibrant and full of life. The black tiles sparkled merrily in the light from the fire and several bright, warm lamps. A wrought iron chandelier banished every shadow, presumably so that one could always see what they were doing. A table of well loved pine took centre stage, although she presumed it worked like the Hogwarts tables and mirrored one in a fancy dining room upstairs. Surrounding this, waiting for her so that they could have dinner was the entire Weasley clan; their bubbly personalities doing more to lighten the room that candles ever could. Professor Lupin helped Molly in front of a massive coal fired stove, stirring a delicious smelling pot as the witch tossed in carrots and onions.

A young witch with pink hair chatted animatedly with the real Mad-eye Moody, seemingly unbothered that she only got grunts in reply. The Weasley children leapt up to wrap her in hugs when she arrived, the twins being ordered upstairs to put away her trunk so that everyone else could say hello to her too.

Eventually, Moody banged his staff against the floor to get everyone’s attention, ordering them to sit down to that Molly could serve up dinner and the eager crowd obeyed. She was certain the table grew as each person sat down because there was no way it should have been able to seat this many people and still have elbow room.

‘Who’s the spare seat for?’ She whispered to Ron and he looked up at the head of the table where a place had been laid but was not being used.

‘Professor Dumbledore. Mum always lays him a place even though he never stays for dinner.’ The redhead answered and Hermione nodded.

She tucked into the spaghetti that was heaped onto her plate eagerly, there was nobody who could cook like Molly Weasley. Then the door opened and all movement ceased as Dumbledore stepped into the room, followed by none other than Gerard. Hermione gasped, and her eye’s met her friend’s across the room. He smiled but held his finger to his lips, indicating that she be quiet as Dumbledore introduced him.

‘Excellent, we’re just in time for dinner. I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine who has taken... offence with Voldemort. He’s offered to lend his wand and experience to help us.’ Dumbledore said as Molly bustled to the draws to fetch another place, setting it into the space that suddenly seemed obvious next to Lupin at the head of the table.

Hermione just looked between the two in confusion; Gerard had never told her that he was friends with Dumbledore. In fact, he didn’t look old enough to have associated much with the wizard at all.

‘Grindelwald.’ Mad-eye growled suddenly and every conversation that had been just about to begin, froze. Gerard looked at him mildly, although Hermione could have sworn she saw annoyance twitch in his mismatched eyes.

‘Can I help you?’ Gerard asked, as though he didn’t quite understand what the auror had said but Hermione too was now beginning to put together the dots and betrayal shot through her as she realised that Gerard was not Gerard at all. Had she been played? Was he using her as a way to get to Dumbledore? She ran back through their meetings in her head, trying to find any suggestion that their friendship was just a fake.

‘Gellert Grindelwald?’ Molly Weasley asked, as if she wanted to take back the pasta and sauce that she’d just heaped onto his plate.

‘Yes?’ Gerard-Gellert seemed to be slightly annoyed as he looked up at the witch and Hermione reached for her wand, desperate to come up with some way to stop him cursing her. She needn’t have worried though, the wizard did nothing.

Dumbledore huffed slightly into his pasta and Gerard’s eyes snapped to him.

‘Shut up Albus.’ He snapped, but there was humour in his tone and the headmaster chuckled.

‘I believe they would stop asking you if you introduced yourself properly.’

‘That’s your job.’

‘Very well, this is indeed Gellert Grindelwald. I’m sure he’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.’ The headmaster’s eyes twinkled, as Grindelwald’s threatened anyone who dared ask him anything.

Hermione waited until after dinner to confront him, waiting in the hallway. She was surprised when she didn’t have to track him down and he came to her instead. He gestured for her to follow him into one of the rooms and she hesitated for two reasons. The first was that she’d been explicitly warned not to go in any room other than the kitchen or bedroom until they’d been cleared of dark objects, the second was that she was nervous to be alone with the dark wizard.

She looked between the dark doorway and the equally dark wizard holding it open for her before finally making her decision. If he wanted to hurt her he already would have, he’d had plenty of opportunities. Not to mention he could probably defend them from anything dangerous in there better than Molly Weasley ever could.

She went into the dark doorway, stopping just inside the doorway and waiting for the adult wizard to light the room. He flicked his wand – one that she could have sworn she’d seen Dumbledore use before, and the lamps flared to life, lighting what might have once been a formal drawing room. It had windows opening out onto the street in front but the glass was so dirty that the single streetlamp on the opposite side of the road was little more than a pale blur. Green wallpaper covered the walls, decorated by golden dragons and oriental witches dancing between fronds of delicately painted flowers. The furniture was a matching set of polished black curvaceous chairs and a couple of dressers against the wall. Golden dragons once more curled between delicate mother of pearl lilies and their ivory eyes seemed to follow the unusual pair as they took a seat on the embroidered green silk settees. Gerard-Gellert stabbed the wand towards the fireplace and a fire blazed to life on the already laid wood, crackling merrily in a way that didn’t suit the room.

‘Before you start...’ The wizard said as Hermione was still gathering her thoughts, ‘I introduced myself to you because you were a source of information that was easy to get to but if I didn’t find you an interesting, intelligent person we never would have done more than meet in the park each morning.’

He was being truthful, but then she was hardly experienced enough to know when someone was lying to her. At least, someone of Grindelwald’s calibre.

‘Why did you break out?’ She asked, hoping that would give her some insight into the role he planned for her to play. She was surprised when he laughed, an honest, jolly sound that was almost infectious.

‘Because my cell was mind-numbingly boring.’ He answered and once again Hermione was so convinced by the truthfulness that rang in his words that she found herself doubting him.

‘Why are you fighting for the order? I would have thought You-Know-Who was closer to your agenda.’

‘Because you asked me to.’ He was being too honest again; she raised her eyebrows at him. ‘I had nothing against muggleborns, admittedly most of my followers were pureblood but that was coincidental; there were more purebloods than muggleborns in those days.’

‘So what did you believe? The history books said you killed muggleborns.’ She asked and he stared into the fire as he answered.

‘I believed that muggles were a lesser species, that by following the statute of secrecy we were upsetting the natural order of the world. Muggleborns are muggles that magic has judged worthy of ascension to wizardkind and to say otherwise is to doubt magic. I did kill muggleborns of course, but I have killed as many, if not more purebloods and halfbloods.’ He explained, then he turned to look at her, fixing her with those mismatched eyes. ‘I intended to remain safely hidden, as I said, I did not escape Nurmengard to participate in any more wars but you asked me to, so I spoke to Albus.’

Hermione blinked owlishly at him.

‘I believe it is your bedtime, Hermione. I’ll see you in the morning.’ It was a clear dismissal, and with much to ponder she obediently scurried from the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Gellert found working with the order of the phoenix frustrating at the best of times. They were indecisive, the democratic process that Albus insisted on employing meant they spent hours debating over tiny details that really were of no consequence.

They were paranoid over the smallest things, determined to protect some stupid prophesy that supposedly concerned Harry Potter and Voldemort. Let Voldemort have it for all Grindelwald cared, he was already gunning for Potter having heard the worst part of the prophesy and there was hardly any sensitive information in it. Not to mention that nobody could take it off the shelf except for Harry Potter, so as long as he never went after it, it wasn’t at risk.

They ignored him, setting up a roster to guard the entrance anyway. The only advantage of the democratic process meant that he could elect to stay off the roster, along with Sirius Black who was another escaped convict.

Then there was the casual, disorganised meetings with everyone being lovey dovey good friends and constant hugs. The Weasley woman seemed to have made it her personal mission to make sure Gellert was happy, asking if he was okay, if he wanted to stay the night or trying to engage him in conversation. The only part of her ministrations that didn’t annoy him was the wonderful meals that she cooked.

Having Hermione know who he was could be taken as both a blessing and a curse. She was cautious around him now, no longer relaxing into their joint study sessions. She didn’t ask him homework questions like she used to, or engage in debates with him. At the same time he enjoyed not having to hide who he was, the few questions that she did ask he could answer honestly with the full breadth of his knowledge.

At least Albus had recognised his frustration, although the task he’d been given to alleviate it had taken him all of five minutes. He’d been asked to come to the headmaster’s office, where the professor had shown him a thin black book that was soggy with spilled ink and flaked with dried blood. There was a large hole in the middle of it and echoes of dark magic still surrounded the item.

‘This was destroyed by Harry in his second year.’ The headmaster began, holding it up so that it was clearly illuminated by the sunlight that shone through the high arched windows. ‘It is how he almost regained his body that time. Do you know what it is?’

Of course, all he knew as soon as Albus told him that it had survived being flushed down the toilet but had bled when stabbed by a basilisk fang.

‘It was a horcrux.’ He began, then elaborated when the light wizard looked at him blankly. ‘It is dark, dark magic. You know of course that killing someone fractures the soul, a horcrux is when a wizard removes that soul fragment and places it in an object. It means that when his body dies, a part of his soul lives on and as such the wizard is unable to die.’

Albus had shuddered and looked slightly queasy.

‘It is not the only one of course.’ Gellert continued and Albus nodded, he must have already deduced that when Voldemort rose to power again. ‘I would expect three, that is a powerful magical number. If not... seven is even more powerful but to split one’s soul that many times...’

‘Why is it not more common among dark wizards?’ the light wizard asked curiously and Gellert laughed again. It was habitual for him to show such emotion, it tended to unnerve people that he didn’t express most emotions but Albus had met him before he’d perfected the ability to fake them, so it seemed to unnerve the other wizard more that he could act them out so flawlessly.

‘It is not true immortality. You die and become a wraith until you can perform a dark potion with some very specific ingredients.’ He answered, turning through the pages of the diary.

‘and of course it is difficult to brew a potion as a wraith. Have you made one of these?’ Albus asked the question casually and Gellert almost choked on the sweet he’d just taken from the bowl on the desk.

‘Of course not.’ It was a question that didn’t even dignify a detailed answer.

Then Dumbledore sobered and Gellert realised that he had at least been half joking when he asked that question.

‘You have something you want me to do?’ Gellert asked, wondering how he would be put to use by the order. He knew he would be invaluable commanding a battle but the current waiting period didn’t suit him well.

‘Yes. I need someone to protect Harry and his friends this year.’

‘I hate children.’

‘You like Miss Granger.’ Gellert knew he had been less than subtle in how he interacted with her and how much he enjoyed teaching her. ‘Physically you are about twenty? I rather hoped that with a slight... overdose on your elixir, you could pass as a student Harry’s age. I believe Harry has somehow developed a connection to Voldemort and you are the only one he will not recognise.’

Gellert didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. He could easily reduce his age with another dose of elixir. He had yet to create the potion that would give him eternal youth so it would just mean he had to age naturally back to his prime again. The mission was perfectly doable, but he really didn’t want to be forced back into school again. The vow he’d taken burned warningly around his wrist and he almost cursed. He’d just acknowledged that this was within his power, so now he had to fulfil the task or risk breaking the vow.

‘Fine.’ Gellert snarled, then he brightened at the thought of going to school with Hermione. At least he would have someone brighter than your average toad to work with. She would make a fine witch with proper guidance, especially if he could shake her firm belief in black and white magic.

‘You called yourself Gerard Abernathy did you not?’ Albus asked and Gellert scowled. He would have to teach his young friend to shield her mind from the nosy headmaster.

‘I did, but I’d rather be Gellert Abernathy. I’m not putting on that stupid hat though.’ He scowled at the sorting hat on its shelf and Albus chuckled; Gellert would look very out of place in Gryffindor tower but that was where he needed to be to carry out his mission.

‘If anyone asks you have already been sorted into Gryffindor.’ Albus said airily, ‘it doesn’t take a hat to know that you’re a Slytherin through and through.’

‘You’re biased because I don’t see the point in classifying magic into light and dark. I think I’d make an excellent Ravenclaw.’ Gellert replied as he stood to leave.


	11. Chapter 11

His second rendition of the potion had several major improvements because he had far more ingredients available to him. He borrowed her cauldron and scales because the ones stored in the house hadn’t been cleaned after whomever had last used them and he didn’t trust whatever potion had had decades to mature on their surfaces.

Of course, she then insisted on being allowed to help and he only made a superficial effort to convince her otherwise.

So they occupied the spacious brewing cellar of the order of the phoenix head quarters and spent several days cleaning the place up, chucking out unlabelled potions and mouldy ingredients. Almost every piece of potion making equipment was dirty and had to be disposed of which left the room very bare by the time they were done.

They picked the cleanest brewing stand and set up Hermione’s cauldron over it, then borrowed a knife and chopping board from the kitchen. Hermione laid out their ingredients meticulously as Gellert drew the instructions onto the wall where she could see them easily from everywhere. He double checked that everything was ready, then began.

He prodded the fire to life underneath the cauldron with his wand as Hermione finely chopped dittany leaves. He filled it with water and added the bones – beef this time. He stirred it anticlockwise as Hermione poured in her dittany with a smile up at him. This time it went a light lilac as he added Albus’s hair. Hermione winced as he added a living spider which fizzled slightly as it hit the softly boiling surface. He recited the incantation and waved his wand as Hermione handed him the fragments of stone. He drew his wand across his already scarred palm and coated the stones in blood before dropping them into the cauldron. Flames licked across the surface and it steamed thickly as he carefully measured it into a cup. He would only need a small amount this time as he only needed to reduce his age by a couple of years.

Hermione handed the cup to him with a nervous smile and he returned her expression, holding it up in a toast. Then he downed it in one. It burned less than last time, which was an improvement but it really could have done with more dittany.

That was his last thought before he lost consciousness.

The world was bright when he came too; he blinked several times, puzzled by the change. It was almost like he’d lost a colour but couldn’t remember what that colour had looked like to see where it was missing. It was just a feeling of absence.

‘Gellert! Are you okay?’ That was Hermione’s voice, so at least he hadn’t turned the whole room into a crisp this time.

‘Hermione?’ He almost expected his voice to be hoarse, but it was smooth. He must have screamed less than the last time.

‘It worked, you’re our age now.’ He heard her pouring a glass of water and he pushed himself up, realising that he was on a soft bed in the headquarters. It was decked out in green and gold with most of the furniture missing, which he assumed meant that it had been hastily cleaned for him to occupy.

She pushed the glass into his hand and he took it gratefully, draining it without taking a breath. She poured him a second glass and he drank that one slower, finally taking the time to assess his new form. First task was to check his magic – he flexed his hand and blue flames flared along his fingers. Hermione gasped in awe as he let it drip off each finger, testing the limits of his magic. Then he focused on the aesthetics, relieved to find that his hair was still intact. In fact, even his clothing was unharmed, so he must have managed to tame the flames by adding dittany.

‘How do I look?’ He asked curiously, noticing that all but one of the scars on his hands had healed. He’d also lost his empowerment rune, which he’d have to recast before school began. He would also need to redo the necromancer’s rite just in case he needed to raise any dead, but that was a ritual that he’d need to travel for; England was far too regulated to get away with that. The bond with Albus was still intact, as was the loyalty of the elder wand.

‘Handsome.’ She replied, then blushed as she realised what she’d said. He laughed, moving to stand and she leapt to his side to help him up. He would have snapped that he was not an invalid but he knew it was meant to be a kind action rather than an insult.

She handed him his wand and he gratefully holstered it, then wished he hadn’t when Molly Weasley arrived. Her face turned thunderous when she saw him up, her face softened momentarily as she looked at Hermione and she gently asked the young witch if she could have a moment with him. He nudged Hermione’s shoulder to get her to obey the matron and she reluctantly obeyed.

Mrs. Weasley managed to restrain herself until the door closed before erupting into furious screeching.

‘What were you thinking! Dragging that young girl into some horrific ritual, Albus Dumbledore trusted you. She was worried sick, terrified that she’d killed you and you were too busy being concerned about your own immortality to consider the damage to her soul.’

Gellert waited her out calmly, eventually she would have to pause to take a breath and then he could tell her the full story. She paused briefly and he interrupted her.

‘Actually, Albus instructed me to make the potion.’ He said breezily and Molly Weasley froze with her mouth open. ‘There is nothing soul damaging about cutting ingredients, Hermione will be fine. My soul is so far gone already that the effects will be negligible and Albus needs someone to protect Harry Potter in school.’

For a moment she just stared at him, completely speechless. It did sound very heroic, he realised with a sinking feeling; sacrificing his own soul so that he could keep a student safe. Of course, if one was unfamiliar with the dark arts they would think that. He hadn’t even considered the impact on his soul, not since the first time he’d torn it when he killed his father as a teenager. It had hurt less every time after that and eventually he’d just stopped paying attention.

‘Is there anything I can do for you? Chicken soup?’ Molly’s ability to change from banshee to mother was awe inspiring.

‘I’ll need to visit Gringotts, then I need to go away for a couple of days.’ He told her, tying up the shoes that someone – probably Hermione had left neatly at his bedside.

‘Anything I can help with dear?’ Molly asked and he shook his head.

‘Just furthering my own interests.’ He told her with a wry grin as he brushed past her out of the door.


	12. Chapter 12

Gellert returned on the day that Harry was due to arrive, much to the relief of Molly Weasley. Nobody could quite work out how the dark wizard had become one of her brood but she’d been pestering Hermione for news since the day he left. Of course, she knew nothing and didn’t expect to hear anything until there was something important for her to know. Gellert was very independent and didn’t even seem to realise that people cared about him.

Hermione had no idea how he’d known that Harry was due to arrive but he appeared one evening in the library, reeking of metal and sulphur and looking worryingly contented. She hugged him anyway, holding her breath as she did and he hugged her back, which confirmed her theory that he was in an excellent mood.

Of course, the thin fabric of his shirt did little to disguise the thickly wrapped bandaged around his chest. She considered asking what he’d been up to but decided that he’d tell her in his own time. He clearly wasn’t going to collapse any second.

She looked him over when they parted, noting the strangely shaped scar on the back of his hand had returned – angry and red as if it had recently been carved into the skin that their potion had smoothed over. His hair had darkened with the five years the potion had removed, wherever he’d been was somewhere hot; he had tanned lightly which suited him much better than the pale skin he’d had after the ritual. It dampened the eerie intensity of his eyes and made him seem somehow more normal.

‘Harry has just left his home in Surrey.’ He informed her as she retreated to the safety of her chair to take a deep breath.

‘You need to shower.’ She told him frankly and he laughed. Gellert was one of those people that appreciated blunt honesty and would rarely take offence. He waved his wand over his body, magically cleaning his clothes. The smell disappeared and she breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Will you tell him who you are?’ She asked curiously and he nodded.

‘Of course, you should be careful though. He will be angry that you haven’t sent any letters and he’s struggling with the side effects of dark magic.’

‘What? What have you been doing with Harry?’ She demanded and he shrugged.

‘Nothing much, anything other than a dementor and I might have been able to help but I can’t cast a patronus.’ He grimaced and she waved her hand for him to elaborate. ‘There was a dementor attack and he was forced to use a patronus to ward it off. Mundungus had been skimping off again.’

‘And the dark magic?’

‘Oh, Voldemort’s been busy. Some of his emotions have been leaking through their bond.’ He said dismissively. Hermione frowned, concerned for her friend. She could see Gellert clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so she gave into her curiosity and asked him where he’d been for the past month. He was perfectly content, it seemed, to regale her with stories of his visit to Indonesia and he handed her several postcards, seemingly proud that he’d remembered the muggle tradition. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that usually one filled them in and sent them via the post.

Harry arrived in the company of Ron just as he was wrapping up a story about a temple and the native wizards and Hermione jumped up to wrap him in a hug. She apologised repeatedly, exclaiming how she wished she could have told him and how Dumbledore had made them swear to keep it a secret. Ron chimed in about how Hedwig had half pecked their fingers off and it seemed everything would be okay.

Then suddenly Harry’s eyes went cold and he stepped away from them.

‘Must have been nice all safely snuggled up here. When did you arrive?’ He demanded coldly and Hermione hesitated. She knew that she had to be honest, but Harry wouldn’t want to hear that she’d been here for more than a month.

She whispered her reply, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear it. Then Ron chimed in again, repeating how desperately they had wanted to tell them and Harry seemed to explode into red hot fury. He took a breath, doubtless to begin a furious tirade, when a cold voice cut through his demeanour.

‘Step away from her.’ Hermione whipped around to see Gellert standing, wand pointed at Harry with an expression more dangerous than any she’d seen him wear. Suddenly he actually seemed like a dark wizard rather than just another young adult.

‘And who are you?’ Harry asked, seemingly shocked out of his anger, then it roared back with fresh fuel. ‘So what? Some new guy turns up and you’re just happy to leave me with the Durselys. I bet Dumbledore told him everything, how many times have you fought Voldemort?’

‘Actually, Albus tells me as little as possible. For some reason he doesn’t trust me.’ Gellert said mildly, with a wink in Hermione’s direction. He strolled forwards and stuck out his hand to Harry in a way that could have been copied from Ron. ‘Gellert Grindelwald.’

For a moment Harry was completely shocked, then he looked between Hermione and Gellert.

‘How long have you two known each other? Is this another secret I wasn’t trusted to know?’ His anger had faded to raw betrayal now and Hermione was quick to reassure him.

‘He didn’t tell me who he was until just a few weeks ago – actually, Dumbledore was the one who told me...’

‘We met a couple of years ago; I was using her to get information on Dumbledore.’ Gellert admitted, ‘she knew me as Gerard.’

‘Oh! Her secret boyfriend!’ Harry exclaimed and Hermione shrunk in embarrassment as all three wizards turned to look at her. She slapped his arm slightly, mortified that they were calling the dark wizard her boyfriend.

‘She used to talk about you all the time!’ Ron goaded and she huffed. Harry looked between the three of them, seemingly distracted from his anger for a bit.

‘What is this place anyway? She didn’t talk about you that much.’ Harry amended, seeing that Hermione was about to burst into embarrassed tears.

‘Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.’ Hermione answered quickly, hoping that if she answered any questions that he had now, he would be less inclined to start shouting again.

‘What is this Order anyway?’ He sounded slightly annoyed again and Hermione hastily elaborated with the pitiful amount of information she knew.

‘So what are they doing? What’s going on?’ He demanded and she looked straight at Gellert; the only one of them who was allowed in meetings.

‘Nothing.’ He sneered. ‘Arguing a lot and following some known death eaters.’

Hermione tried her hardest not to laugh. Gellert never had anything positive to say about the order but she knew he must see something worth the effort or he wouldn’t stay. Then there was a moment of chaos as the twins arrived with their extendable ears and proceeded to complain about the impermeable charm on the door. Ginny arrived several seconds later, doing an admirable impression of her mother as she scolded them for almost waking the Lady.

The conversation descended into catching up about their family and friends until once again Gellert was brought to the forefront again as Fred jokingly called him their young darkling and discovered exactly why one shouldn’t insult him as he became victim to a powerful nosebleed hex and blood sprayed across the room. The next few minutes descended into laughter as the twin that had been sneakily distributing his experimental nosebleed and vomiting sweets struggled with the same effects that everyone else had been suffering.

Eventually, the dark wizard was convinced by Ron to cast the counter-curse (the blood was starting to drip on his sheets) and the two twins fled.

‘So you’re supposed to be protecting me? Aren’t you meant to be like Dumbledore’s age?’ Harry turned to the resident convict.

‘I'm a year older than him but I found a way to reduce my age. He asked me to use a little more to become your age so that I could go to Hogwarts with you.’ He sneered impressively as he mentioned the name of the school and Hermione tried to imagine having to go back to school if she knew that she could out do almost all the teachers in their subjects.

‘Have you decided on your electives?’ She asked curiously; she’d already assumed he’d be taking ancient runes because spell making was something he clearly enjoyed.

‘Runes, Arithmancy and Divination of course.’ He announced and all three of them spluttered in surprise.

‘But Divination is a load of tosh!’ Ron exclaimed, he’d already admitted on several occasions that he only took divination because it was easy.

‘No it not!’ Hermione exclaimed, remembering everything that he’d taught her in their tutoring sessions. She wasn’t very good at it; her mind was far too busy for the meditations needed for those without the sight to glean anything of the future but she’d seen some of the stuff Gellert had predicted and it was almost terrifying to behold. The two boys looked at her like she’d grown another head.

‘Hermione, you were the one that stormed out of divination calling Trelawney a fraud.’ Ron reminded her and she huffed. Trelawney was a fraud for the most part, with only the occasional prophesy. Gellert on the other hand described his sight as a second layer of reality and with simple meditations, he could focus on exactly when he wanted to see. Of course, he was best at short term predictions – card games against him were a lost cause.

‘The order meeting will end in under five minutes, then we will have tomato soup with homemade bread for dinner and your mother has made a special dessert to welcome Harry.’ Gellert said, he was looking straight forwards and his eyes seemed to glow strangely in the dark room. ‘She’ll be annoyed that Ginny threw dungbombs at the door but more annoyed that Tonks knocks over the umbrella stand. Then Fred and George will spill dinner over the table and Sirius and Molly will have an argument over who is Harry’s legal guardian.’

Harry and Ron just laughed but Hermione knew without a doubt that what Gellert had just told everyone was a genuine rendition of the future and she knew that with the relatively short range, almost everything would come true. As Molly knocked on the door she prepared herself for what would inevitably be an interesting dinner.


	13. Chapter 13

‘What were you thinking, taking on an entire Khete nest alone!’ Mrs. Weasley’s shouts were deafening even in the corridor. Hermione dithered around y the door, undecided as to whether she should risk going in and seeing what was going on.

‘It’s not like I had any other options.’ That was Grindelwald sounding surly. ‘I didn’t expect anything to be _growing_ in there.’

‘You could have been killed! You’re lucky it only scratched you.’ Hermione entered the kitchen to see Molly fretting over a shirtless Grindelwald who was bent over the table, rubbing a toxic yellow paste over a long lacerated cut down his back. She paused thoughtfully as she regarded the angry looking brand on his right shoulder before rubbing more of the paste over the strange symbol.

‘It’s nothing – I would have been fine if those two boys hadn’t left their fake wands out.’ He grumbled, hissing slightly as the witch drew her wand along the cut and left nothing but a pale line where the injury had been.

The dark wizard stood up as soon as he could be free of her and retreated from the room, scowling and muttering to himself. Hermione smiled, because it seemed Mrs. Weasley’s motherly instincts had kicked in with full force when it came to the younger looking Grindelwald.

‘Morning, Hermione dearest, your Hogwarts letters are here at last. Could you take them to everyone please?’ Mrs. Weasley handed her a thick stack of letters and turned away to begin laying rashers of bacon in a hot frying pan.

Hermione met Ginny on the stairs and handed her Harry and Ron’s letters, then took the rest up to the fourth floor where the twins and Gellert were staying. She left the twin’s outside the door; going in wasn’t a risk that she wanted to take, then she took Gellert’s to his room and knocked on the door.

It opened magically and she slipped in to find him strapping his wand into a holder on his thigh. He had put on a shirt now but seemed to be forgoing a jacket for once.

‘Your Hogwarts letter.’ She told him, holding out the envelope to him and tearing open her own. For a moment she just started at it, shell shocked as the badge fell out into her hand. She had expected it of course, the chances of her not getting it were slim but it was still an amazing feeling to actually be holding the prefect badge in her hand.

‘Congratulations.’ Gellert said, looking at the badge over her shoulder. She turned around to see him holding an identical one.

‘You’re a prefect?’ She demanded, snatching the badge to double check it. True enough it was a red and gold shield with a “p” emblazoned across it.

‘I told Albus I didn’t want to have some stupid curfew. He seemed to think this was the best way to deal with it.’ Gellert said breezily, as if he didn’t understand that he’d just stolen an accolade that he hadn’t deserved.

‘But you don’t deserve it!’ She protested and the dark wizard gave her a strange look. Then he summoned a thick bundle of parchment from his briefcase.

‘I was expelled just before OWLS in my fifth year. My school records are exemplary, even my behavioural record was perfect – until my expulsion of course. These are the original documents; fortunately nothing is dated so I have genuinely transferred to Hogwarts as a student to complete my education. I imagine there is very little precedent but I might have been in consideration even if these were not unusual circumstances.’ He handed the parchments to Hermione and she glanced at the results he had been predicted for his owls. Then she had to do a double take as she looked over them again.

They had very different subjects – Transfiguration and Charms had been amalgamated into a single subject, Potions, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy and History of Magic were the same, but he also had Dark Arts, Rituals and Ancient Magic, Duelling, Magical Politics. There was also a side note that he’d been tutored in Divination and Legilimency but never been examined. Of course, he had been predicted Os in every subject and had been top of his year group by a margin that put Hermione to shame.

‘Oh.’ Hermione said quietly. Gellert smirked but didn’t seem too upset.

‘We should head down; we’ll probably be going to Diagon Alley soon.’ He decided, leading the way downstairs where everyone was indeed waiting for them.

They were escorted by Moody and a tall black auror called Kingsley, Sirius came in dog form and of course Molly Weasley was there to organise the whole trip. They ended up apparating – Molly took her youngest, Sirius his godson, Moody and the twins disappeared with a triplet of cracks, then Kingsley took Ginny and Gellert left last with Hermione. It was a horrible experience, as if she was being squeezed through a tube. It felt like her eyes were about to pop out of their sockets and her ribs crushed, then suddenly they were standing in a side alley beside the leaky cauldron.

Their group was hurried to Gringotts first where Molly, Harry, Hermione and Gellert made their way to the desks, in the meantime the rest of the group went to start picking out books.

‘Have you got your own vault, Gellert dear.’ Mrs. Weasley asked the dark wizard kindly and he brushed past her to speak to the goblin at the counter. He handed over his wand and suddenly the Goblin bowed like it did to various purebloods around the room before hurrying off to fetch the goblin manager.

‘Ah, Lord Grindelwald. We have liaised with the German branch and transferred one of your vaults here under the name “Abernathy”, if you and your companions would follow me please.’ With another bow the goblin lead them straight past the queue and kicked a couple out of the cart that was waiting, letting their group climb in instead.

They all gave their vault numbers and they rocketed off to Hermione’s first. As a muggle born her vault was very close to the surface and she handed over her key to open it. Her allowance was a small pile of coins in the middle of the small vault and she swept the lot into her bag. It would comfortably cover her for the year but little more. The next vault was Harry’s and as usual he seemed embarrassed as he quickly shovelled coins into his bag and then the goblin announced that they were off to the Weasley vault. This one was almost completely empty, and Mrs. Weasley swept the entire pile into her bag with a concerned huff.

Then they were off to Gellert’s vault. They plunged downwards, through a waterfall that left them all dry but bleached her enchanted bag of its Gryffindor colours. After a dizzying turn and an almost vertical drop they arrived at a vault. This one had a much heavier looking door with no key hole, the manager ran his finger down the surface as if stroking a loved pet. The door shimmered, then vanished into smoke, revealing mountains of glittering gold, jewels piled into rainbow hills and silver fetching up against corners like snowdrifts.

‘Ten minutes, Lord Grindelwald.’ The goblin informed him as he opened his briefcase and used a shovel that had been leaning against the wall to shovel gold into his case. Then he grabbed a couple of handfuls of galleons held them out to Mrs. Weasley. She began to shake her head, to proud to accept charity.

‘I can’t be pulling out my case every time I need a knut. Put this in your bag for storage and you can buy my school supplies with it.’ He groaned and Mrs. Weasley pinked, she took the offered galleons and dropped them into her bag.

‘ _Lord_ Grindelwald?’ Hermione whispered to him as they exited the bank into the gleaming sunlight.

He gave her a look as if she was stupid.

‘I’ve been head of house Grindelwald since I was seventeen.’ He answered. She paused, remembering Mr. Malfoy as being addressed as Lord Malfoy, even though Harry wasn’t Lord Potter. She quickly realised that he must have come from a house as least as influential in Germany as the Malfoys were in Britain.

They met the others in Flourish and Blotts, purchasing the books that the others had already found for them. Gellert stayed with them long enough to get his robes measured, then with a defiant sneer towards the two Aurors, he disappeared off down Knockturn Alley. Hermione finished her shopping with the rest of the Weasleys, collecting the remainder of Gellert’s supplies along with hers. It was only when she got home and counted out how much of her allowance was left that she realised Gellert had given the Weasleys far more than he ever could have hoped to spend on school supplies.


	14. Chapter 14

He had heard stories of the Hogwarts express, first from Albus and more recently from Hermione and her friends. The trio wheeled their trunks on trolleys down the crowded platform (why they didn’t just shrink them was a mystery to him), weaving between sobbing families and excited friends.

Then again, there was a lot he still didn’t understand about the Weasley family. His father would have crucio’d him if he’d failed to levitate his trunk downstairs. They hadn’t been able to apparate to the station and had to walk there. He’d point blank refused to let the Auror apparate his own luggage; did he look stupid enough to leave an auror with his belongings?

With little time to spare they clambered onto the first carriage and he thought they were finally able to go when Mrs. Weasley wrapped him into a hug. He stood, stiff as a board and wondered when he’d even hinted that he needed looking after until the woman finally let him go, then he bounded onto the train before the woman could kiss him like she had done to all the other children.

Not a moment after the last one of their party had climbed onboard, the train began to move, pickup up speed as they left the station and headed out through the city.

‘Well, we’re not hanging around. Stuff to sell.’ The twins decided, heading off down the corridor with their trunks in tow. At least they had the sense to levitate them.

‘Let’s go find a compartment.’ Harry began wandering off down the corridor.

‘Er, actually, Gellert and I have to go to a prefect briefing.’ Hermione explained and Gellert winced. After a morning of frantic Mrs. Weasley, he really didn’t want to sit through a silly school child meeting. Hermione took his arm as if sensing his reticence and marched them off in the opposite direction.

The prefect meeting was in the front compartment and they were the last to arrive. The small room was packed – a blond that could only be a Malfoy, with a black haired girl that looked like a Parkinson hanging off his arm. There was another boy that looked familiar but Gellert couldn’t pin him down. His entrance provoked immediate interest, and the Malfoy stood up.

‘This carriage is for Prefects only.’ He drawled, puffing out his chest to show off the green and silver badge on it.

‘I’m aware.’ He sneered back with an expression that would put the child’s smirk to shame. The Slytherin looked him up and down, taking in his clothes and posture. Gellert waited patiently as the boy judged him, hoping that a confrontation would occur so that he could put the boy in his place. Unfortunately, before anything could happen, the head boy and girl arrived. The two were clearly an item, but they called everyone to order easily and they all took a seat.

‘Ah, you must be Gellert Abernathy, Professor McGonagall told us that you’d be a prefect this year.’ The girl said. She was already wearing her blue trimmed robes with the badge pinned to her chest. In fact, now that he noticed it, all the prefects had their badges already on their clothes, be they muggle or wizarding.

‘Everyone, I’d like you to meet Gellert, he’s transferred from Durmstrang this year but Dumbledore believes that he’d be a prefect at Durmstrang if he’d stayed. He seemed to think it was fair to award him the position here. I hope you’ll all help him settle in and explain to him his role.’ The yellow-wearing head boy explained with a kind smile in his direction. It was almost satisfying seeing the shocked expression on Malfoy’s face.

For several minutes the head droned on and Gellert listened without taking his eyes off the boy opposite him. They said something about points and detentions, patrols and passwords, which he would examine at a later date but he was more interested in the boy. He was more bark than bite – he’d backed down as soon as the heads came in. If he was as scary as he acted, students two years older wouldn’t have made him back down.

They were each handed a sheet of parchment and he glanced down to see a roster. He had a patrol with Hermione once per week, but his name was otherwise conspicoiusly absent from the table, not that he was going to complain. Every night spent patrolling for students was one wasted. Of course the head boy and girl seemed to think otherwise because they asked him to stay behind after the meeting. The Malfoy boy smirked as he brushed past him and Hermione sent him a worried look as she followed.

‘McGonagall said you wouldn’t struggle in class but we wanted to make sure you had time to adjust.’ The head boy said, he looked apologetic but he could feel the girl judging him, clearly she, like Hermione believed that Gellert hadn’t earned his position.

‘If you’re struggling with the workload at any point, feel free to let us know and we can roster you out entirely.’ She looked at him condescendingly. He nodded calmly and left without another word, he didn’t like her already.

Hermione lead him back down the train of excited children until they found Harry and Ron, who were sharing a compartment with a dreamy looking girl with hair down to her waist and a chubby boy holding a cactus. Hermione greeted them brightly, dropping into a seat and Gellert sat opposite her with far more dignity. Unfortunately he then discovered exactly why the remaining spot had been next to the chubby boy as he poked his cactus and a squirt of greenish stink sap sprayed in his direction. Gellert leapt out of the way and scowled at him, the boy shrunk back into his seat and tucked the cactus into his bag.

‘Guess who’s Slytherin’s prefect?’ Hermione was saying, and both boys groaned, then suddenly Ron brightened.

‘I can’t wait to see him try something with Grin..’

‘Ron!’ Hermione hissed and the boy looked sheepish.

‘I mean, I can’t wait until they meet Gellert.’ He corrected, casting a look at the dark wizard. Of course, his wish was then granted almost immediately as the compartment door slid open and the blond stepped through. He was flanked by massive boys, who stood looking menacing with short, stubby wands in their hands.

‘What?’ Harry snapped before either of the trio could open their mouths.

‘Manners, Potter, or I might have to give you a detention.’ He drawled, taking in the other occupants in the compartment. He brushed over Harry’s two friends, sneered at the two girls and leered at the tubby idiot. ‘How does it feel to know Dumbledore was so desperate that he picked a new boy as a prefect?’

‘Get out.’ Ron snapped.

‘You heard him.’ Gellert said breezily from his seat and the three Slytherins snapped their attention to him. ‘Get out.’

‘Or what?’ Malfoy’s goons laughed and he waved his hand dismissively at them.

It took more effort than he would like to admit but he did a masterful job of hiding it, as their bodies were thrown backwards in the same motion as his hand. A finger flick later and the compartment door snapped shut. They then had the pleasure of watching a confused and slightly afraid group of Slytherins right themselves and what remained of their dignity and hurry off down the corridor.

For a moment there was silence in the corridor, then Ron let out a guffaw of laughter. Then suddenly the blonde was in hysterics and the remainder of the compartment followed with peals of amusement.


	15. Chapter 15

They got off the train in Hogsmede station where several carriages drawn by thestrals still waited. Harry stopped, facing one as if his worst nightmare had come true.

‘Why’s something pulling the carriages?’ He asked as he backed away from the unnerving animals.

‘Harry, there’s nothing pulling the carriages.’ Insisted Hermione and Grindelwald chuckled. Both looked at him strangely before Harry forced his two friends to face the creatures between the shafts.

‘Look, those horse things. Can’t you see them?’ The duo just looked blankly at the carriage, then he began to look really worried and his friends began quizzing him about his health. They were so busy helping him into the carriage that they missed Gellert step forwards and stroke the massive beast.

As the carriages moved off, Hermione’s concern faded to excitement about Gellert’s first view of the castle. She shuffled sideways so that he could have the window seat and nattered excitedly about how the first years usually crossed the lake. Then they rounded a corner and he got his first sight of the castle. It was massive; far larger than Durmstrang and the hundred of windows twinkled with a friendly light. They trotted between a set of ornate gates, then up a driveway that meandered up the hill. The landscape was wild, but not as dramatic as the peninsula that his old school had been built on, nor did it have the harsh contrasts of his mountain fortress.

He got little more than a glimpse of the castle before it disappeared again, then they sat in the swaying lantern light until the carriage drew to a halt outside the castle. He got out quickly, eager for his first real look at Albus’ school.

They had come to a stop in a large courtyard along with the other carriages. Students were climbing out, visible in the warm light that spilled from massive, open doors. The excited chatter had picked up, the students looking forwards to the “sorting”. Gellert smoothed his red trimmed robes distastefully. They were much better quality than the average student, so at least they were cool and soft, tailored perfectly to fit him but still outdated in style and far from practical.

He patted the thestral thoughtfully as he craned his neck upwards to see the tops of the towers, quickly picking out Dumbledore’s office by the high, arched windows.

‘So you can see them!’ Harry’s sudden shout made him jump and he had his wand drawn and ready to cast before he realised what the boy had said. He turned slowly to face the teenager, catching sight of his nervous expression.

‘They are thestrals, only one who has witnessed death can see them.’ He explained, turning back to the massive beast and ran a hand fondly down the bony nose. He felt the boy step up beside him and cautiously hold his hand out to stroke the thestral’s sinewy neck. ‘Careful, they eat meat.’

The Gryffindor recoiled and Gellert laughed, following them as they trailed up the stairs and through the massive hallway. They were swept along in the flow of students, turning left into a massive hall. The ceiling arched far above their heads; clouds obscuring stars which twinkled among the rafters, four long tables ran away from them towards a high table on a dais. He knew from what Albus had told him as children that each table represented a house, and it was easy to find the one that was for Gryffindor by the red dressed students already in the seat. He felt a pang of longing for the Durmstrang hall which alternated between duelling and eating, depending on the time of day and mood of the staff. Hogwarts hall didn’t look like it had ever had a real duel take place in it he thought sourly.

They took their seats and he looked up to the head table to see Albus already looking at him. His eyes twinkled with amusement and Gellert considered the likelihood of escaping the room if he used a cruciatus on him right now. His eyes slid sideways along the staff; he already knew McGonagall, although it still surprised him that she’d managed to actually attain her teacher’s position. He also knew Flitwick and Sinstra from the few order meetings he had bothered to attend, Snape was more memorable with his status as spy. There were a few less memorable ones, then his eyes finally alighted on the witch dressed in pink at the end of the table. He already knew her, Albus had told him about her appointment and the mission he expected her to truly carry out. She was short and stocky with incredibly wide lips, her coat had stupid ruffles around her neck which made it look even stubbier and she was standing over a foot shorter than the spy beside her.

He ignored the sorting, watching as the woman gazed intently at Albus, then searched the crowd until she found Harry. She looked at him greedily, then her gaze flickered to his companions. She clearly recognised Ron; her lip curling into a sneer, Hermione got a similar reaction and he wondered if the woman would sneer if she actually understood how much potential Hermione had. Probably more in her little finger that that Umbridge woman had in her entire body, maybe even her parents too. Finally, Umbridge noticed him and her brow crinkled in confusion. She didn’t know him, which was to be expected, his presence had been kept very quiet. He wondered how long it would take her to write about him to the Minister.

Chatter erupted across the hall and he continued watching the newest teacher as she interrupted the headmaster’s speech to make her own. Around him the hall practically fell asleep, with the exception of Hermione and a couple of Ravenclaws. Pride ran though him as the young witch not only listened but understood the real meaning behind the meaningless fluff. With a little guidance, Hermione would become a formidable witch.

‘What was that all about?’ Harry yawned as Umbridge finally sat down again.

‘It means the ministry is interfering at Hogwarts.’ Hermione grimaced ad the trio shared significant looks.

‘I’d like to see them try.’ Gellert smirked and the tension was broken. He realised suddenly that the golden dishes had filled with food and he tucked in with an eagerness that made Hermione laugh.


	16. Chapter 16

‘I forgot how much I hated homework.’ Gellert tossed his half finished transfiguration essay at the wall, whilst Harry and Ron just stared at him open mouthed.

‘It’s not due for another week mate.’ Ron advised him, his attention drawn from his quiddich magazine.

‘You’d be better of starting now too.’ He informed them, wandlessly summoning the parchment back to him. He knew the subject matter of course, but he hadn’t had to write anything more than a couple of lines in decades and his hand kept cramping up.

‘You sound like Hermione. We’ll get it done later, there’s loads of time.’ Harry tossed his snitch up into the air and caught it just before it could escape his curtains.

‘If you knew how much homework that Umbridge woman will give us, you’d be starting now too.’ The dark wizard flexed his hand and began writing again.

His first morning of lessons had gone off without a hitch – Transfiguration had begun with a lecture on how important his OWL year was, then they had to perform a simple colour changing charm, which he’d not even dignified pretending to struggle on. History of Magic had been dull in the extremes with a ghost teacher who would drone on for the whole lesson about giant wars whilst Hermione alone took notes.

He looked forwards to their first lesson with Umbridge, after their free period. Contrary to Hermione’s belief that he didn’t deserve his badge, he was determined to excel in his second chance at schooling – if only for the pride of having achieved his OWLs. So he’d cast a translation charm to turn his school books into his native language and had read the first five chapters; enough to know that the chances of them being taught anything useful was very small.

A bell tolled somewhere and there was a collective sigh from the boys around the room. The Irish boy pinned up his last poster as Ron retied his shoes. Gellert waved his hand and his bag magically repacked itself.

‘What d’you think that Umbridge woman is going to be like?’ The boy from the train asked as they all made their way downstairs and through the stiflingly hot common room.

‘I dunno, I mean that speech last night was pretty boring.’ Harry replied. By now Gellert was striding ahead of them, unwilling to remain in the hot room for longer than necessary. The door to the common room swung shut behind him as he hurried through the unfamiliar corridors to the third floor. He had to cast several locator spells, not that he minded because he loved watching the Elder Wand spinning in the air.

By the time he’d taken several wrong turns, he arrived not long after the Gryffindor students. The classroom was already almost full; just a few of the Gryffindor girls still to arrive, so he took a seat near the back of the class and pulled out his book. Umbridge was already at her desk, wearing a fluffy pink cardigan and a bow in her hair, the class was almost silent as they waited for her to begin. Everyone had their books and wands out, quills and parchment at the ready but Gellert already suspected there would be little wand waving in this lesson, so he left his safely tucked into his sleeve.

‘Good morning, children!’ She chimed when the last seat was filled. A couple of students mumbled back a reply and the woman tsked with false disappointment. ‘Now, that wasn’t very good, let’s try again shall we; good morning children!’

Gellert refused to respond, but around him the class returned the entirely false greeting. Unfortunately the teacher must have been looking at him despite the distance between them because she noticed that he hadn’t opened his mouth.

‘Mr Abernathy, are you different to everyone else?’ She prowled up the aisle towards him and he didn’t miss how eager Ron looked as he watched the encounter.

‘Mein English ist night much gut.’ He replied, putting on a clueless expression and waving his German copy of the set book. ‘I am much sorry, Fräulein Umbridge.’

The woman’s expression melted into something sickly sweet as he apologised meekly and she gently rested her hand on his desk, offering to help him if he ever needed anything in the future and reassuring him that she would slow down if he asked. He did, just because he wanted to see the exaggerated gestures people were wont to do when talking to non-native speakers.

When the woman finally bustled away down the aisle again, taking with her the cloud of obnoxious perfume, he met the eyes of two disappointed boys that had hoped to see the Grindelwald-Umbridge showdown. With a benevolent expression he twirled his fingers in her direction, ending the gesture with a sharp twist. Her hair turned royal blue.

Apparently, she couldn’t see her own hair because she carried on with her introduction, oblivious to the change and confused by the giggling of her class. As she drivelled through why their owls were important and how average all their previous teachers had been, she got more and more irritated at the incessant snickering. The best bit was, the redder in the face she got, the more she looked like some kind of fruit with her vibrant tones.

‘Will you all shut up!’ She finally snapped, then she looked embarrassed by her outburst and had to take several calm, steadying breaths. For a moment there was silence as the students absorbed this, then raucous laughter exploded across the room. Gellert would have been unsurprised if steam started shooting from her ears. Ron shot him a thumbs up from under the table and even Hermione was cracking a smile.

Only the threat of detention on their first day back made them finally subside into the occasional giggle.

‘I don’t know what exactly you find so funny about your OWLs.’ She huffed, ‘but if you hope to have any career within the ministry, you’d better start treating them more seriously. Now, turn to page 5 and read chapter one please.’

It was almost amusing watching her pat her hair down as if it were frazzled – of course the style remained just as hideous as before. Gellert opened his copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ and began reading about tuning spells to a certain magical signature. It had been a real stroke of brilliance to rebind the book during lunch. He was very soon the only one still reading and he looked up when the teacher finally realised everyone was distracted. He only vaguely listened to the conversation , having already guessed what the other students were only just realising, then Harry lost house points arguing and he realised he needed to stop this before Harry ended up in detention with the woman.

He wandlessly tugged at her hair and a frustrated hand batted away his magic like a fly. With more persistence, he tried again, this time with a sharp jerk that couldn’t be misinterpreted. The witch hissed and spun around to face the other half of the classroom, eyeing the students suspiciously. He waited until she was facing Harry again before doing the same, twice in quick succession.

‘I said wands away!’ The teacher screeched, spinning suddenly and glaring at each student as if to find a wand. Everyone looked baffled and shared looks, he ghosted a cool breeze from the window across her shoulders and the witch whipped around, looking crazy as she swatted the air around her. ‘Stop this immediately!’ She squawked, batting at the air with her hands. Grins cracked out across the room as the witch swatted the imaginary flies that now buzzed in her ears. It was all parlour tricks, but they served the purpose none the less, Gellert thought as he flicked his fingers again and pulled her hair. Finally, a strand came loose in her hand as she scratched at her hair and she almost dropped it, then she seemed to realise that there was something wrong and she inspected the blue strand. He could almost feel the rage bubbling up inside her.

‘Out, out, all of you!’ She finally screeched and the class fled before she could change her mind.


	17. Chapter 17

‘Bloody brilliant mate!’ Ron declared loudly at dinner, talking about how Gellert had magically tricked Professor Umbridge. His voice temporarily drowned out the whispering about Harry’s shouting match.

‘Yes, that was fantastic, was it all wandless?’ Hermione shouted, despite him being seated next to her.

‘What are you doing?’ Harry asked, looking at his two friends in confusion, which spoke volumes for how successful they’d been at hiding the gossip. Gellert looked between the trio, then pushed his plate aside and stalked away from the table. He had promised to protect Harry, and by extension, Hermione. He had not promised to protect his feelings.

He stalked up the large staircase until his legs ached, he had absently counted the floors so he knew he was on the 6th floor. Of course, he had intended to go to the library and see what options he would have to stave off boredom but he didn’t mind the exercise his unintentional detour had given him.

He explored the floor quickly, finding little of interest unless one was desperate for the bathroom... although the second bathroom did have a secret passage which he followed up a flight of narrow stairs. He emerged onto what he assumed was the seventh floor, decorated by a ghastly tapestry of a troll. He wandered in the direction of the corridor, then changed his mind and turned back and wandered past the tapestry to go to the quieter study room. A voice called his name and he turned again to see Hermione frantically beckoning him.

‘Harry overheard Seamus, he’s really angry at us again.’ She explained, shouting down the corridor as he reluctantly wandered in her direction again. He wanted nothing less than to deal with Harry’s teenage tantrums but without blatantly ignoring Hermione or seeming callous there was little that he could do. Even if he had the emotional capacity of a flobberworm, he knew that it was always best to pretend otherwise.

Just as he passed the tapestry for the third time, a door materialised out of the wall beside him. He spun, wand drawn at the unexpected movement and Hermione froze mid sentence. He paused, waiting for someone to exit as a stunned Hermione joined him.

‘I’ve never seen that one before. Did you say anything that could be a password?’ She asked curiously and he shook his head. He cautiously reached out and the door swung open easily but whatever was inside was dark, so he flicked his wand, sending a ball of light soaring into the blackness where it exploded into several smaller balls which zoomed into the lamps, flooding the room with light.

It was cozy; several couches arranged around a fire which blazed in the grate. The walls were packed with books and writing supplies. There was a desk with a lamp and a gramophone was tucked into a nook.

‘I’ve never seen this room.’ Hermione marvelled as she wandered in, fingers brushing the plum upholstery.

‘I can’t imagine a better place to study.’ He habitually waved his wand, checking for enchantments, unable to comprehend how such a perfect space hadn’t already been put to use. The response was overwhelming; the entire room hummed with magic. He had expected to find the enchantments on the gramophone, maybe a couple around the fireplace to stop sparks but even the chairs were woven into an enchanted fabric that made up the room. Of course magic was already woven into the foundations of the building but none of it was as active and intense as that already in the room.

‘This room is new.’ He finally decided but even as he said it he noticed the chairs were slightly worn and the ink pot on the desk was half empty. So the room had either been here for a while or had recycled furniture from somewhere else in the castle. With his curiosity peaked, he beckoned to Hermione and with only a brief explanation to raise her own curiosity, they left the room and closed the door.

It faded back into the stonework around it. He cast another revealing charm but came up with nothing but a faint echo that there might be something there.

‘How did you get it to appear last time?’ Hermione asked, casting her own quick revealing charm.

‘I don’t know.’ He paused, running through his memories to figure out what he’d been doing. As far as he knew, all he’d done was walk past the wall. He hadn’t said any password or performed any obscure hand motion, he hadn’t even touched his wand.

‘Aparecium’ Hermione said bossily, assuming a textbook casting stance and waving her wand at the wall. He had to give her points for effort but the magic of this room was far beyond a simple concealment. It was for all intents and purposes as though the room had ceased to exist.

The young Gryffindor then insisted that they recreate the scenario, him walking away down the corridor as she called out to him. He turned and came back towards her, passing the frustratingly blank wall again. She huffed in frustration and he knew the young witch was regretting having left the perfect room. She ordered him to perform every spell he knew of on the wall to get it to reveal its secrets, which he only partially obliged. He’d found the cruciatus effective for learning secrets in the past but suspected that particular method would be mostly useless on a stone wall.

Defeated, the pair finally left, Hermione deciding to check Hogwarts a history and Gellert already brooding about the imminent teenage tantrum he had so nearly managed to avoid with the appearance of the room.

They entered the commonroom to find Ron sitting glumly in their usual chairs by the fire. Harry was nowhere to be seen, which was unsurprising but still worrying.

‘Where’s Harry?’ Hermione had already asked even before they sat down.

‘Upstairs. We’ve got detention with Umbridge on Monday.’ He bemoaned, sliding over a pink piece of parchment. Hermione took it with a frown and Gellert peered over her shoulder. It was a single line, telling them a time and place for their detention.

‘What did you do?’ Gellert managed to grate out. He had left them alone for less than an hour and they’d managed to achieve what he had been at pains to avoid; could none of them see that she was out to get them?

‘Harry shouted at Seamus. I punched him. He’s at the hospital wing getting his nose fixed up now.’


	18. Chapter 18

He’d not managed to come up with a single way to get Harry out of detention with only three days warning. He’d come up with plenty of temporary options but nothing that wouldn’t just delay it, so instead he’d just left the issue and tried to focus on his homework. An essay on the properties of moonstone was nothing particularly difficult, but he couldn’t think straight with the noise coming from the corner and Harry kept tapping his quill against the bottom of his ink pot. Hermione had already finished and had started on their runes and he found her ability to block out the noise infuriating; almost as infuriating as the Weasley twins distributing ‘vomiting bonbons’ or whatever they were called.

He wondered if being one of Dumbledore’s posse would let him get away with cursing them.

Hermione’s eyes snapped up to glare at the group in the corner before returning to her homework. Gellert inwardly smiled; at least she was having as much difficulty as he was.

Finally she stood with a huff, sending parchment fluttering dangerously close to the fire. He summoned it to safety with a flick of his hand, catching sight of a completed care of magical creatures homework among the pieces with a bitter feeling. He hated nifflers.

The witch squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest so the prefect badge glinted, then she stormed across the room to where the Weasleys stood with clipboards surrounded by unconscious first years. He stood wearily, judging that this was meant to be a prefect situation and followed her.

‘That’s enough.’ Hermione said forcefully and the two sixth years looked up in surprise. Gellert stepped up behind her to act as backup.

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ The twin on the left said, humour glinting in his eyes. ‘The dosage seems strong enough doesn’t it, eh Fred?’

‘I told you this morning, you can’t test your inventions on students.’

‘We’re paying them!’ Fred argued indignantly.

‘They’re minors, so it’s actually illegal, not to mention against school rules.’ Gellert actually doubted that it had ever occurred to anyone to expressly forbid testing of inventions on minors, although there might be something about performing magic on other students.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ Their dreadlocked friend asked in a smug voice.

‘Make us write lines?’ The first twin sneered. Onlookers around the room were laughing, but Hermione drew herself up to her full height.

‘No, I’ll write to your mother.’ For a moment there was dead silence as the colour drained from both Weasley’s faces.

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Oh yes I would.’ Hermione said grimly, ‘I don’t care what you do to yourselves, just don’t give it to first years.’

She spun and flounced back to the fireplace, leaving Gellert facing the two thunderstruck twins. He discretely flicked his wand into his hand and the duo paled even more. They had been at the order base for long enough to know who he truly was. He waved it, wordlessly summoning the small bag of products and inspecting them through the plastic film. They were ugly at best but he supposed the aesthetics could be developed later, the magic meanwhile was rather simplistic but he’d seen other examples of their inventiveness that was far more promising.

‘If you need any assistance, feel free to come to me.’ He tossed the bag back to them. ‘but if I see you testing products on juniors again, your mother will be the least of your worries.’ He fixed them with a glare that had made older, stronger wizards quail before following Hermione back to their seats.

He managed to stare at his blank parchment for a couple of moments longer, listening to the occasional double tap of Harry’s quill. After his gaze shifted for the fifth time to the stiflingly hot fireplace, he finally gave up, sweeping his books into his bag.

‘I’m going out.’ He said shortly at their questioning glares, sweeping out the portrait and into the blissfully cool hall.

It was dark, the portraits snoring in their frames. It was well past curfew so he cast a disillusionment charm over himself and hurried back to his most recent project – the mystery room.

The wall was as blank as ever, just as it had been the last two times he’d given up studying to visit it. He conjured himself a chair with his back to the tapestry, then sat and pondered the wall. He’d tried repeating every word that had been spoken in the corridor, he’d revisited at exactly the same time of day (although it could also be sensitive to day of the week, or month.) He’d tried grasping his wand in the same way, tapping his feet as if he was coming up the stairs, he’d carried the same objects in his bag but nothing had been successful.

He stood abruptly and stalked over to the secret passage, then back to the stairs. When he drew level with the brazier, he turned and went back the way he’d come. At the other brazier he turned again and walked back towards the main staircase.

The door appeared with a grating sound and he eagerly spun towards it. So the trick was to walk past it three times.

He hefted his bag of books and yanked open the door, excited to have some peace finally, only to discover that the room was no longer a study room. It was so dark that even his spell barely lit the towering piles of objects around him. He slipped through the doorway and lit his wand in a more conventional lumos, peering at the mounds with blatant curiosity.

It seemed to be mostly junk, but occasionally his eyes land upon what could only be a treasure. His wandlight drifted over a nest of mismatched chairs, skulls peering from the nooks and what looked like an old set of lacy dress robes draped over a battered tabletop. He used a finger to brush the title of an ancient looking tome clean – _Manipulation of Memories_ looked interesting so he carefully manoeuvred it out of the pile, then jumped as _Enchanting Bodies_ appeared next to his foot. He picked it up, surprised to see that it was actually non-fiction and tucked that into his bag too, assuming that it was a recommendation from this strange room.

He found a broomstick next; dusty with peeling varnish but a quick check revealed that the enchantments were all still intact so he climbed aboard and gently took off, hovering up to the ceiling to get a better view of how far the room stretched. He conjured a ball of light, sending it shooting into the shadows. It faded from view before it hit a wall, which meant there must be some form of extension charm on the room, and he landed quickly.

He poked around for a little longer, borrowing a few more books and a nice crystal ball – his own had gone missing and he hadn’t gotten around to buying a new one. Besides, it had a very nice set of Naava figurines supporting the globe above the base.

Finally, fearing that he would lose the door among the shifting piles, he left with his booty and returned to Gryffindor tower. He had made progress on the room, and tomorrow night he would try and work out how the room had changed.


	19. Chapter 19

‘What is this?’ Grindelwald asked, holding up one of the hats she’d just finished with two long fingers. It was a purple one, with a brown bobble where she’d run out of wool. It was very lumpy and the stitches were uneven but she was very proud of her accomplishment.

‘A hat.’ She said primly, focusing on counting the stitches in her row. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn the finished one the right way up and splay his hand inside it to spread it out.

‘Are you with child?’ Hermione choked and the ball of wool rolled off her lap and under the opposite chair. She scrambled for her wand to freeze it before it rolled into the fireplace.

‘What?’

‘These are children’s hats.’ He plucked at a loose stitch and she felt her cheeks heat slightly.

‘They’re for the house elves.’

‘The what?’ Gellert asked, sounding incredulous.

‘The house elves; they have over a hundred working here.’ She explained and he made a strange huffing sound.

‘They don’t want hats.’ He said scornfully and she abandoned her rewinding of the ball of wool in favour of staring at him indignantly.

‘They need them...’

‘House elves don’t feel the cold.’ He dismissed and disbelief flared up inside her. How could he know elves well enough to know that but not realise they were little better than slaves?

‘Of course, but don’t you think they deserve better than this? They’re slaves, an entire species subjugated by wizards and forced to live in terrible conditions. Did you know they’re forced to punish themselves if they even insult their masters.’

‘Hermione, elves don’t want to be free.’ Ron argued from behind Gellert, he had also picked up a hat and was inspecting it.

‘That’s because they’ve been indoctrinated into believing slavery is a good thing.’ She argued passionately and Gellert snorted. She turned furious eyes on him.

‘They serve us because they cannot support their own magic.’ He informed her and she frowned in confusion. ‘Unless they have a witch or wizard to draw on, an elf cannot perform more than simple magic.’

‘But Dobby... He does powerful magic.’ Pointed out Harry from next to Ron.

‘I strongly suspect that elf draws off you, which is illegal without a formal agreement.’ The dark wizard moved to that he could see them all. ‘The agreement between an elf and a witch or wizard is that in exchange for serving them, the elf can draw off the witch or wizards magical power. To give an elf clothes – in effect ending the contract, is a punishment for the elf not fulfilling his end of the contract.’

Hermione paused, her thoughts stopping in their tracks as she took in this new information.

‘Now, to achieve change, you must work with both sides of the conflict – do they not teach you anything at this school? What is it about house elves that makes you find wrong?’ Gellert sounded completely reasonable as he sat opposite her and Hermione gaped in surprise. He was the first wizard to take her seriously on this.

‘Their living conditions I suppose...’ She trailed off, so surprised that he was willing to listen and help her that she couldn’t come up with all her usually organised arguments.

Over the next half an hour they narrowed down her vague arguments to a neat list of five bullet points. Harry and Ron surprised her with their helpful and meaningful insights and comments and they quickly found themselves with a list of solutions. Gellert had finally left for his usual night time wanderings by the time they came up with a name – they’d scrapped her initial idea of SPEW with Ron arguing that it would be a PR disaster, so instead they had settled on ElfAid.

By the end of the evening, it was with great pleasure that Hermione threw her knitting needles into the fire, watching the thin wooden sticks twist and split into glowing strands. She couldn’t bring herself to throw away the hats, having put almost the entire summer into them but Harry kindly offered to gift them to Dobby next time he saw the elf. With her hand aching but a glow in her chest every time she looked at her completed manifesto, she sat back. Tomorrow she would create the badges for the charity; Gellert had suggested she make them stylish, so she’d have to consult Ginny on that, maybe even Dean.

Then she would need to get someone influential wearing one, then hopefully it would take off from there. Sirius knew the who’s who of modern magical society; he would be able to help her with that, especially if he could be persuaded to implement the changers with Kreacher.

‘Where do you think he goes at night?’ Ron asked suddenly, making her jump. She glanced at the spot that Gellert had recently vacated. ‘You don’t think he’s doing anything bad do you?’

Truthfully, Hermione had no idea where he went at night but she doubted it was anything they should be concerned about. Dumbledore seemed to trust him and she voiced as much. Besides, in all the time that she’d known him, she’d never seen a hint of a man who could commit the atrocities he’d been famous for.

‘Why don’t you check the map?’ Ron pointed out and Harry nodded, rushing up to the dormitory to grab it. Hermione began clearing the ElfAid stuff from the table, neatly gathering it into piles and stacking it beside her chair. Ron almost helped, then remembered that she didn’t like anyone else touching her notes and added some logs to the fire instead.

Harry returned with the map and they spread it out across the table. He tapped it with his wand, muttering the password and the familiar lines scrolled out across the page. The trio leaned over eagerly and began searching; he wasn’t in any of the commonrooms and the library was deserted. Snape was patrolling the ground floor and Filch was on the third but otherwise the corridors were completely empty.

‘He’s not here.’ She meant it as a statement but it came out sounding more like a question.

‘Are there any missing rooms?’ Ron asked, scouring the map again.

‘The chamber isn’t here, but you need to speak parseltongue to get in there right?’ She asked and Harry nodded.

‘He’d not in the castle.’ The boy-who-lived pointed out what they had all already realised. Ice settled in her gut as her concern was voiced. He could be doing anything outside the castle and even Dumbledore wouldn’t know about it.


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione hated coming second in class, yet she had found herself in that position far too often of late. Gellert may seem to inexplicably struggle with homework – struggle but still never ask for help, but he always ended up with full marks and he always completed the classwork faster than her. Runes was the worst followed by arithmancy because those had always been her favourite subjects and anything that involved spell casting was a lost cause. At least he was abysmal at Herbology and Snape seemed to hate him almost as much as Harry.

She pulled another book from the shelf; she had asked Professor Babbling what they would be studying next class so that she could study ahead and hopefully come out on top again. Gellert must have forgotten something in the years he was out of school and she was determined to best him.

Of course, Gellert was off doing who-knew-what somewhere, Harry and Ron were in detention with Umbridge and she had the evening free to research to her heart’s content. She put the two runes books to the side, pulled out her almost finished drawing of the bowtruckle and quickly labelled the last part. At least she wasn’t neglecting her prefect duties, she thought grumpily, seeing as she’d had to patrol alone for the last two.

Finally, unable to tear her mind from her supposed colleague, she shut her books with a snap and swept them into her bag. A quill magically took note of the books she was borrowing, its handwriting somehow managing to capture how displeased Pince would be if she’d caught Hermione treating her books that way. She strode from the library then hesitated, realising that she had absolutely no idea where to look. He’d been outside the castle last time they had checked, but he couldn’t be leaving every night. She just needed to find a way to find out where in the castle he was.

Hopefully Harry wouldn’t mind her borrowing the map for a while; he hardly needed it whilst he was in detention.

The twins had been taking advantage of her absence to test more products, which she would have been furious about if it didn’t provide the distraction she needed to get into the boy’s dormitory without drawing attention. All the same, she noted as she climbed the spiral staircase, she would have to come back unexpectedly another time and put a stop to them.

Dean was the only one in the dorm, but he was in bed with headphones on and a football magazine open, so he didn’t even notice her as she crept across the room and rummaged in Harry’s open trunk.

The map was beneath was smelled like a pair of dirty socks and what she sincerely hoped were clean pants. As soon as she had it in hand, she hurried from the room and ducked past the Weasley twins. Outside the portrait, Hermione opened up the map and tapped it with her wand, watching eagerly as the lines sprawled their way out from the tip. She read each name as it appeared, then doubled back as Gellert Grindelwald’s name suddenly appeared on a seventh floor corridor.

He seemed to be pacing the corridor and she watched him go back and forth three times before disappearing again. Confused, she folded the map and hurried across the castle to the where he’d been. She arrived, pulling the map out and double checking. Grindelwald was still absent and she moved slightly further down the corridor until she was standing exactly where he had been.

He couldn’t have just left the castle from here – the wards would stop that. So there must be a room that wasn’t on the map. She turned to the troll tapestry; that was a likely candidate for a secret passageway and it was conveniently opposite where Grindelwald had last been. She decided to pace, because that was what the dark wizard had been doing and wondered if maybe there was a password of some sort.

She gave up after crossing the space seven times, the tapestry as obstinately in place as ever. She pulled out the parchment again, examining it to see if perhaps she had been wrong. Then she looked up and down the corridor. Then she looked again, realising a door had materialised silently on the opposite wall. For a moment she just stared at it, then opened it with a light laugh.

A jet of green light exploded above her head and she dropped to the floor, then a fiery dragon roared across the room and she screamed shrilly. The dragon exploded into a wall of flames, flared brightly once, then dispersed into a light rain of ash.

Then, ‘Hermione!’ Gellert called from across the room, followed by a rapid clacking of shoes as he hurried across the room towards her. She giggled slightly hysterically, lying on her back and looking up at the melted splotch of stone that the green curse had hit. In front of her eyes, the damage healed, fresh stone smoothing across like skin until all that was left was a paler splotch.

‘Are you okay? I didn’t get you did I?’ He was kneeling beside her, hands brushing across her body as he checked for blood. Her breathing slowed as he finished checking her over, then suddenly his long blond hair was hanging in her eyes as he checked to see that she was conscious. It had grown, she realised with some surprise and he hadn’t been styling it up like he usually did, so it hung in waves around his face.

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine.’ She managed to get out and an expression that could on be called relief flooded his face. He drew back and helped her to her feet and she took in the room with confusion. It was a massive, empty space with high arched ceilings. The walls and columns that supported the roof were made of black stone, in sharp contrast to the warm honey of the rest of the castle, there were no windows and the lighting was indistinct, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

‘This is that room. It’s changed from last time.’ She realised suddenly, remembering the strange room that they had discovered when Harry had rushed out of the hall.

‘I’ve been trying to discover how it works.’ He answered, ‘I think it gives you what you need.’ He turned away and walked to the centre of the room.

‘I’ve never heard of a room like that.’ She decided, although she’d heard plenty of staff saying there were many rooms in the castle that nobody knew about. The chamber of secrets was plenty of proof of that.

‘It was full of strange things the last time I came here. I thought it was recommending specific things for me at first but after reading a few of them...’ He trailed off but she got the meaning.

‘You’ll have to show me when you come here tomorrow. Harry and Ron should be back from detention soon though.’ She reminded him and he nodded quickly. They both wanted to know how it had gone.

They hurried up to the Gryffindor tower and thankfully arrived before the two boys because she still had to return the map. Grindelwald seemed disinterested as she wandered off up the stairs, already occupied with chasing the first years out of the seats by the fire. Usually the presence of ‘Mad Harry’ was enough to ensure they got the prime spots. Nobody wanted to aggravate the mentally unstable boy-who-lived. Silver linings, she supposed.

As it was, the boys were not back soon. In fact, the common room was deserted and they’d almost burned through all the logs in the pile when the portrait finally swung open. The two boys stumbled in and immediately headed their way. Both seemed surprised when they saw the duo sitting there waiting for them.

‘You’ll never believe what that cow made us do!’ Ron exclaimed, dropping onto the seat opposite them.

‘What?’ Hermione asked curiously. Usually detentions meant cleaning or doing some other menial task without magic.

‘Lines.’ Harry said quickly, giving Ron a meaningful look. Hermione frowned in confusion; that was hardly a punishment worthy of complaint, although they had been at it for several hours.

‘We’ve still got so much homework to do!’ Ron moaned, pulling the corresponding books from his bag and Hermione snorted slightly.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ Gellert said dismissively from behind his book.

‘You sound like Hermione.’ The redhead huffed as he massaged his hand.

‘I think I’ll do that dream diary first, we’ve got Trelawney first tomorrow.’ Harry decided, pulling a blank form towards him. ‘What should I dream?’ He asked and Gellert made an amused huff.

‘I know her type. Dream something dramatic.’ He told them and the black haired boy moaned, even as Hermione looked at him in outrage.

‘You can’t just lie on a homework.’ She told him crossly and he snorted.

‘Yes you can, if it’s a dream diary.’

For a moment the three boys came up with a couple of dreams, each more ridiculous than the last until they finally finished with Ron dreaming that he’d ridden a Grim into a house decorated for Christmas. As far as she could tell, they were really working at divination backwards, coming up with the message they thought Trelawney would like to see, then working out the signs and a dream to include those signs.

It was only when she noticed Harry rubbing at his hand for the second time in a minute that she finally wondered what was wrong. Usually the back of the hand wasn’t the part that hurt after excessive writing.

‘What’s wrong with your hand?’ She demanded and the boy quickly shifted so that his limb was out of reach of her.

‘Nothing, just smacked it on a banister.’ He said dismissively, but his voice was tight and he was giving Ron that weird look again.

‘No, you didn’t. Show it to me.’ Grindelwald demanded, his voice sounding tight and dangerous. Harry tried for a minute to resist but the dark wizard just flickered his fingers and suddenly the appendage was frozen in clear view. ‘You should have told me.’ He snarled, although his aggression was clearly not aimed at either boy. He stood in a whirl of robes and strode form the room.

Hermione leaned forwards, catching sight of the faint red lines that were already healing into the irritated skin – the faint lines that formed words.


	21. Chapter 21

Gellert stormed from the room, ignoring the angry shouts of the fat lady as he slammed her portrait open. He couldn’t remember whether he had done that with his hand or his magic, which was usually a bad sign but he couldn’t bring himself to figure out why that was so bad. That pink cow deserved everything she got for putting Hermione’s friends in danger. He would destroy her, no maybe he would torture her first. The Cruciatus? Or maybe he could transfigure her into a toad. Apparently a teacher had gotten away with turning a student into a ferret last year.

He slammed open the door to her office and the woman managed to look condescendingly at him, he raised his wand and cast a powerful silencing charm. Several kittens in the plates around the walls mewled and fled behind painted furniture, perhaps sensing his broiling magic better than their owner.

‘Mr Abernathy, just what do you think you’re up to?’ She demanded, pushing back her chair and coming around her desk. Her expression was patronising but lacked the glee it had when she was taunting Harry.

‘What do you think you are up to, Delores Umbridge?’ He snarled back. She looked shocked and outraged as he levelled his wand at her, hundreds of options running through his mind. She reached behind her, knocking over a pile of essays as she scrabbled for her wand. He watched with bemusement as she found it and brought it up to level. He disarmed her with a flick of his spare hand.

‘Crucio.’ He hurled the spell at her, just as something collided solidly with him through the still open doorway.

He crashed into the chair in front of the desk, dropping Umbridge’s wand but keeping a firm hold on his own. The elder wand would not lose him so soon. His spell splashed harmlessly against the wall, shattering several kitten plates.

He whirled around, levelling his wand at the person who’d knocked him, then let it down when he saw Hermione standing with her hands already raised. Somehow, seeing her seemed to magically make his fury manageable.

‘Please, Gellert. You can’t use an unforgivable on her. It’s not worth your soul.’ She was begging him and he almost wavered before movement in the corner of his eye snapped it back to Umbridge who had managed to grab her wand back from where it had fallen.

He swiped his wand in her direction to deflect her curse, then he cast a quick protego to deflect her second. He disarmed her before she’d even finished the incantation of her third and his fourth spell had her stuck to the wall like a starfish.

‘Surely you can’t object to me simply returning the favour?’ He asked (definitely didn’t beg. He was not a child) the young witch and Hermione shrugged.

‘Nothing she wouldn’t do.’ She decided.

‘We need to find the quills then. They will be black with a metal tip, probably decorated and with no ink on it. It’s probably in a box.’ She told her and Hermione nodded, seeming much more comfortable with this option.

He tried a summoning charm for good measure which unsurprisingly didn’t work. It was fairly standard to have anti-summoning wards on any object of value, which generally included most dark aftifacts. Hermione began rummaging in the chest of draws whilst he quickly plundered the desk. She shut the door as she rushed past on the way to search the shelf.

He shoved past stacks of pink parchment and mauve ink in the drawers, the draw below the ink held a bundle of ordinary quills. He pulled them out and cast a revealing charm on them, disappointed when none turned out to have more than the most basic enchantments to not make a mess.

It was Hermione that hit the jackpot, eventually uncovering a small chest with five red and black quills cushioned on a contrasting pink silk cushion. He wondered if they’d been custom made, or maybe just the box. He didn’t think he’d ever known anyone actually find a use for blood quills, especially since the invention of the promise quill, the scar was considered rather primitive.

‘Is this them?’ She asked curiously and if Umbridge’s squeals from the wall were anything to go by she would probably be correct. He picked up one of the quills, feeling the weight and balance before putting it to a piece of parchment and drawing a single straight line. A matching one scored its way across the back of his unblemished hand.

‘Good, put them on the table.’ He ordered, drawing the knife he carried on the inside of his robes. It was a rather nice one that he’d picked up in the room, it was certainly goblin wrought with a series of celtic knots worked into the handle and engraved with intricate patterns down the centre of the blade. It had no useless enchantments messing with the magic he used it for but had the kind of savage beauty he could appreciate. It had been designed for blood magic, with razor sharp edges that made clean, delicate cuts.

As he drew nearer the bound ministry witch, she began to thrash and whimper. He wondered briefly if she knew anything about the kind of magic he was about to perform or whether she just feared the concept. On second thoughts, maybe she was just afraid of him. He’d already made it very clear he was no student.

He had to do every quill separately; it was a very complicated enchantment to change but he imagined it was significantly easier than changing them back. Buy the time he was done, five crimson tallies marked the back of her hand. Hermione waved her wand over the marks, healing them to white lines whilst Gellert set the room to rights, parchment books and pieces of china whirling around him in a maelstrom as they magically flew to where they had come from.

Once everything was done, Hermione carefully put the blood quills back in their spot in the dresser whilst Gellert prodded life back into the mended kitten plates. One looked a little more alley cat than it had before, and he had no idea how the original artist had managed to get a cute temperament from another but he doubted Umbridge would notice. When they were both done, he paused by the door and pointed his wand back at the teacher.

‘Obliviate.’                                     

The two of them hurried back upstairs, but despite working together earlier it seemed as though Hermione was now pointedly ignoring him. She almost jogged ahead of him, throwing doors open for herself despite knowing that he preferred to hold them for her. Surely she couldn’t object to him obliviating Umbridge? Attacking a teacher would have them both expelled which would devastate her.

He doubled his pace until he was striding next to her, his long legs easily keeping up with her shorter steps. She looked firmly down at her feet as they walked, pointedly not even glancing at the corridors they passed through. He looked upwards, running the rest of the route through his head, figuring out the spot where he could stop her with the least chance of resistance. It was humiliating enough to be ignored by the schoolgirl, let alone having to seek her forgiveness for whatever he’d done wrong. He did not want to have to do this twice.

When they reached the seventh floor corridor, he roughly pushed her sideways. Surprised, Hermione stumbled into a gap between bookshelves. She let out a cry of protest, then crossed her arms and glared stubbornly at him when he blocked the exit.

‘Why are you acting sullen, I did what you asked.’ He demanded, unfazed by her outraged gaze.

‘You were going to torture her.’ Hermione emphasised the torture, as though that explained everything.

‘Well yes, she had been torturing your friends.’ He couldn’t understand the issue, of course, he understood that she didn’t want him using an unforgivable, they were illegal after all and it was probably likely that the school had a way of tracking such spells. He had easily agreed to her terms and the resultant punishment was really rather fair, in his opinion.

‘You can’t just go around torturing people.’ Gellert felt as though they were just going around in circles, with both of them getting more and more agitated. He fought to keep his face expressionless; to not show how frustrating he found their situation. Hermione glared at him from the shadow of the bookshelf, her eyes narrowed and looking strangely as if she were about to cry. It was this more than anything that made Gellert determined to somehow end this confrontation that wasn’t going at all the way he had planned.

‘I exacted a fair punishment, fit to the crime. It is nothing worse than writing lines for a rules infringement at school.’ He said desperately, realising almost as soon as that last point left his mouth that he’d said something wrong. Hermione spluttered indignantly, before finally gathering herself up to her full height.

She was by no means tall and was certainly not of strong stature like some of the pureblood ladies he’d met, but surprisingly she could be rather intimidating. Her magic crackled almost visibly around her in time with her fury, lending her a hot, fiery aura that was the polar opposite to the controlled, icy reactions he was famous for.

‘Torture is never a fair punishment, it’s never acceptable to put someone in pain and responding with more torture makes us as bad as them.’ She screamed, then barged past him and ran off up to the common room. He heard the Fat Lady’s shrieks echoing down the hallway as the young witch slammed the portrait behind her. For several long minutes he stood in the dark, deserted corridor, then he turned on his heel and strode out of the castle. Deep in the forbidden forest, he disapparated with a sharp crack.


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione refused to believe it was a bad thing that Gellert seemed to have disappeared. The morning after their argument, Hermione had pointedly not looked for him at breakfast and she’d brushed Harry off when he’d asked if she knew where he was. Her peer seemed to understand something about the state of their current relationship from her waspish reply and didn’t ask her about him again. In fact, she strongly suspected that he’d said something to Ron as well because the other boy didn’t so much as mention the subject either.

She had answered every question in Arithmancy later that day, then she’d earned top marks in their classwork in runes. She forced herself to feel happy that she was back at the top, quashing the knowledge that she was only there because Gellert was not. She submitted her homework, secure in the knowledge that it was perfect because she had specifically researched it in far more depth than was needed at OWLs to beat Gellert.

Hermione was called to Dumbledore’s office after lunch; a nondescript school owl delivering the summons with specific instructions on how to find his office. She’d been there before when she was taken for the second challenge, but she’d been accompanied by Professor McGonagall that time, so it was a novel experience standing in front of the stone gargoyle and giving it the ridiculously inane password.

Nerves thrummed in her stomach as the staircase grated upwards. She knew what this meeting was about, it was no coincidence that she would be summoned in her first break after Gellert had disappeared. The doorway was open, and the elderly wizard was already seated at his desk, writing what she assumed was a letter.

She knocked on the door, the sound very light because she didn’t want to hurt her knuckles on the rough, heavy wood. Dumbledore looked up with a smile and a friendly twinkle in his eye that did nothing to quell her nerves. He gestured to the seat opposite him; a large, ornate affair that looked very uncomfortable.

She crossed the room quickly, looking around at all the strange glass and brass objected with blatant curiosity. The last time she had been here, there had been so many official witches and wizards that she hadn’t been able to get a good look at anything. This time she could recognise several sneakoscopes, although these ones looked far more official than the brightly coloured one that Harry owned. There was a large, triangular tower with a slowly spinning orb inside and something that looked awfully like a little muggle train set, except for the clock on the front face of the locomotor.

She tore her attention away from the fascinating tables and sat at the offered chair. She blushed slightly at the knowing look Dumbledore gave her and shuffled further backwards into the surprisingly comfortable chair.

‘How have you been, Miss Granger?’ The headmaster asked her calmly, and she answered honestly. He just nodded indulgently as she explained how hard she had been working.

‘I was once like you myself, always trying to best Grindelwald. He has always been inordinately bright and I often found myself frustrated at how easily he could stay ahead of me.’ The Professor leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his chair. Hermione said nothing, knowing that there would be some lesson at the end of this story. She was not disappointed. ‘It took me a while to realise that I was already a powerful wizard to even be near him. You see, we have the distinct disadvantage when performing new spells. He has already seen himself succeed and therefore knows exactly what he needs to do to achieve it.’

It took Hermione a minute to wrap her head around what exactly the headmaster was implying.

‘You mean he’s so good in class because he uses his sight?’ Hermione asked and was rewarded by a nod. The unfairness of it all struck her in that moment and she almost burst into tears. She felt oddly betrayed that the person she’d been trying to beat had such a leg up. ‘That’s so unfair.’

‘Life is unfair, Miss Granger.’ Dumbledore said, picking up a bowl of very familiar little yellow pear shapes. She took one suspiciously, doubting that something as innocuous as pear drops could exist in the wizarding world. ‘However, in this case, as always, I believe there is a price for such a gift. Are you aware of why he joined the order?’

‘Because he knew that Voldemort would target him?’ Hermione asked. She was under no delusions that Grindelwald was helping the order because he believed in their cause.

‘That was my first assumption, but when we first spoke, he said he came to me because a friend asked him to.’ Immediately, flashes of that conversation from the beginning of summer crossed her mind. ‘Now, you must understand that Gellert Grindelwald is similar to Voldemort in more ways than one; for a start, he is incapable of most human emotions. So a friendship seemed at the time to be entirely implausible. Until I saw him with you of course, the first true relationship I believe I’ve ever seen.’

Hermione was struck dumb for several moments, completely unable to comprehend the enormity of what Dumbledore had just told her. Of course, she was intelligent to understand what he had not told her as well. She knew that Grindelwald was only helping them because she had asked, and she also knew that as such a powerful wizard he was essential to their cause.

‘We do not recruit minors in the Order of the Phoenix, but I believe that asking you to take great care to maintain your friendship would benefit you more than it would us.’ The wizard said with an aura of finality.

‘He’s already gone, headmaster.’ She told him, knowing even  as she said it that Dumbledore would have a solution.

‘Oh, I think I can get him to return.’ The wizard said with a wry smile.

Hermione left after another pear drop, returning to Gryffindor tower with her mind buzzing. She couldn’t help but wonder what the old wizard had in mind to make Gellert return to Hogwarts.

She had missed transfiguration, and of course the two boys were waiting for her when she arrives, worry carved into both their faces. They leapt up when she arrived and she smoothed her face, trying not to show how preoccupied she was with what she could say to Gellert when he got back.

She answered their questions breezily, hardly paying attention to the answers. Yes, she was fine, yes, she missed a lesson, she had to see Professor Dumbledore, it was about the Order of the Phoenix. She didn’t realise her faux pas until it was far too late and she had already said it. Ron looked gobsmacked, Harry’s face was twisted with ugly rage.

‘So Dumbledore’s happy to talk to you about the Order, then.’ Harry said coolly. By contrast, Ron was blazing anger.

‘But Mum says we’re too young! How come you get to be part of it?’ The common room fell silent and every eye turned to them. Hermione shushed him, which luckily seemed to work rather than inciting him further. ‘I bet it’s because you’re a prefect.’ He moaned. Privately, Hermione thought that if it actually were a real Order mission, there were many reasons she’d be chosen before Ron. This reaction being one of them, but he had been bitter about not being a prefect since the beginning of term and kept making snide remarks, no doubt inspired by the ones his older brothers occasionally threw her way.

‘Actually, it’s not got much to do with the Order at all.’ She backtracked quickly, which wasn’t really a lie.

‘Yeah, I bet. Probably can’t tell us.’ Harry sounded malicious, seemingly hoping for a reason to start shouting again. She was practiced by now though, learning how to diffuse his temper.

‘Actually, I can. He wanted to tell me that Gellert joined the Order because I asked him to and to not offend him again. So it’s not because I’m a prefect, Ronald.’ She fixed the redhead with a cold stare, then shifted the look to Harry. ‘It’s also not because you’re in any way being left out, unless you also asked Grindelwald to help us?’ She fixed the duo with one last cold look before flouncing upstairs to bed. Let the two stew in their own embarrassing, unfounded accusations.

Later that night, Hermione awoke with a start, the hangings on her bed swaying slightly as if they’d just been released. She heard the latch on the door click slightly as it shut, but she didn’t need to see him to know that Gellert had been to check on her. That acrid, metallic smell that she’d only ever smelled around him still hung in the air.

She wondered again what Dumbledore had told him to get him back so soon.


	23. Chapter 23

Gellert’s long imprisonment had stunted his usual impeccable ability to understand human emotions. He had already developed a thorough understanding of the reactions love, happiness and pride could evoke. He had learned to manipulate these feelings, to use them to persuade people to act in a certain way all the while remaining unfettered by them.

Of course he was aware that Hermione was remarkably righteous, but he had been so taken off guard by her usual logic that he had completely forgotten that she too was bound by guilt and compassion. Attempting to torture the pink bat in her presence had been an error in judgement and the alternative punishment was inefficient. She would quickly come up with an alternative and he would be in exactly the same position again.

No, he already knew that the witch would only be stopped by ultimate fear. Torture and threats were a language she would understand and be easily susceptible to.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time he had encountered this problem. He had sat through many meetings of ‘The Order of the Phoenix’, listening to complex plans and missions when the same could be achieved by a bit of gold or a single threat.

Of course, their determination to antagonise the ministry was another obstacle. He knew from experience that it was much easier to have ministry support. He had suggested that they stop arguing about Voldemort’s return, (clearly that wasn’t getting them anywhere.) and instead announce that they had been mistaken and Sirius Black had killed Cedric Diggory, claim that he was gathering supporters. At least they would have ministry support then and maybe even the population would start getting prepared for attacks. Of course, that would involve lying and incriminating Black even more, (even though said Black had been the only one to agree to the plan.) so nothing could be done there.

No, in conclusion, he would be better off working alone. He needed the power of the ministry, he needed his extensive network of spies and supporters, his ability to influence every echelon of society and the morals of the order would never work.

Dumbledore’s message had been expected but he still felt a cold flush of fear when he said she had fallen ill to a dark curse. He was back inside the castle within hours even as he knew that he had been manipulated.

She was fine, sleeping in her bunk.

He left, heading down to the magic room and finding peg boards covering the walls. Rolls of fresh parchment and pots of different coloured ink covered a massive desk. It was the perfect planning room.

He sat at the desk and pulled a clean parchment towards him and began to write. It only took him moments to realise that he was woefully underequipped. He had almost no information, no idea where his followers had ended up and was fighting between two established, influential bodies.

He needed information first and access to his entire fortune. The Goblins were relatively immune to wizarding politics but even they had been forced to freeze his accounts. Fortunately, with their usual surliness they had done nothing more than the ministry had asked of them, so the family accounts had remained untouched. All the same he needed the other half of his fortune.

His first mission would be to persuade the goblins to reopen the vaults, his second would be to gain intelligence. The solution to that was really rather simple.

House elves were loyal, intelligent and mostly went unnoticed by witches and wizards. They had been invaluable to his intelligence forces in his time and they had been almost entirely overlooked this time.

The Hogwarts kitchens had to be serviced by elves, and he suspected the kitchens would be directly beneath the hall. It was common to have the kitchen table mirror the dining room so that food could be made to spontaneously appear. There was an easier option than traipsing around the castle though.

‘Elf.’ He called imperiously, turning towards the empty space beside his chair. An elf wearing a smart pillowcase popped into the space looking infuriated.

‘Young masters should not summon us. We’s Hogwarts elves, not for yous to boss about.’ The elf was a female, her pillow case cinched at the waist with a length of rope and a ladle stuck through it like a sword.

‘I am looking for an elf to take into my family.’ He informed the small creature and it looked at him suspiciously.

‘And the young master is needing a house elf for what?’ The elf rested her hand on the ladle as if she were about to brandish it at him.

‘I am head of my house, our family elves passed whilst my grandfather was too sick to arrange breeding. My father too died before the situation could be resolved.’ He explained and the elf’s ears suddenly perked.

‘I is knowing of an elf looking for employment sirs.’ She informed him. ‘I can send her to yous if yous is interested.’

Gellert nodded and the elf disappeared with a pop. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before she reappeared, this time with another female elf. The second elf was a mess; although her dress was clean, he could smell the alcohol on her and she was leaning heavily on the other elf.

‘I is bringing Winky to you sirs.’ Here the older elf hesitated. ‘Winky is a good elf sirs but she is needing work at the moment.’

The elf was young, and although she was a mess now that was a sign that she had been devoted to her old owners. Reinstating her employment would go a long way to earning that devotion for himself.

‘Winky?’ He asked, his voice formal but not cold. The little elf looked up at him, then promptly burst into tears.

‘Is is not fit for work sirs, I should not be seeing now.’ She sobbed into the older elf’s shoulder. He reached out for the elf’s hand, taking it in his own.

‘Would you form a bond Winky? My family is in need of your service.’ The elf perked up suddenly, looking at him with something that could only be described as awe.

‘Winky would be happy to agree sirs. Winky would do anything sirs.’ He smiled, drawing his wand and tapping it against their joined hands as he recited words to the ancient ritual. Winky blinked tearfully as she too completed her part of the ceremony. The older elf disappeared with a crack.

The wash of magic that bound them was a comforting familiarity. Winky’s back straightened as she felt the power of the bond, the invoked magic informing her of the true family she now served.

‘I is happy to serve the Grindelwald family, Master.’

Gellert allowed a smile to grace his lips. Winky would become a powerful asset in the future.’

‘For now I want you find information. I want you to mingle with other elves and find out whose master’s serve Voldemort. Tell them only that you are in the service of an old European family.’ The elf nodded eagerly, disappearing with a snap. Gellert turned back to his parchments, pleasantly surprised to find a tea exactly how he liked it waiting on the table for him.


	24. Chapter 24

Gellert was back. He had left the hall at breakfast almost as soon as she had arrived, sweeping past her in the doorway and heading off to his Divination lesson. Hermione wondered all the way through breakfast, picking at the crumbs of her toast with no appetite.

She hoped that he was just busy but when he sat with a Ravenclaw girl during Ancient Runes it became obvious that he was purposely avoiding her. He made no effort to hold back during the lesson, blowing all her revision efforts out of the water as he translated the passage as though it were English.

She questioned Harry and Ron about it during their Care of Magical Creature class, discovering that he had also sat apart from them during Divination. Apparently he had spent the entire lesson without a single ribbing of Trelawney’s predictions, which was apparently very out of character for him as he usually took every opportunity to show that she was a fraud.

She went to the library before dinner, knowing that it was unlikely Gellert would be there but still hoping that he was. She slipped through the doorway, immediately relaxing as she passed into the warm room. It was quiet, whispers and rustling pages from every direction, punctuated by the scratch of a quill.

Hermione slipped between the shelves, passing the ancient runes section without even a passing glance for the first time since term began. Beating Gellert was a lost cause but she could still work on Defence.

The Defence aisle was emptier than she’d ever seen it, books missing from every sub-section as students struggled to compensate for the substandard teaching being offered by Umbridge. She ran her fingers down the spines, reading the obscure titles that remained and wondering at what should have been in the many spaces. She pulled _Defeating the Dead_ and _Foes with Fears_ from adjacent shelves. Both were written by authors she knew, and although his style was almost lockhart-esque in its waffling, there was good information hidden inside.

Then through the gap she saw two familiar heads of blond. She froze, wondering what Gellert was doing talking to Malfoy of all people. She couldn’t hear them, so there must have been a privacy charm in place but she could read Malfoy’s expression from across the table.

The student was pale but seemed to be listening intently to Grindelwald as he spoke. The dark wizard was leaning forward intently, making small gestures with his hands as he spoke. Malfoy nodded slowly as if he were considering a proposal. They spoke for a moment more, then both stood suddenly, shaking hands formally. She’d never seen Malfoy looking so adult as he straightened his robes and strode from her vision. She hurriedly drew back and looked at the opposite shelf, pretending to be fascinated by the titles when the Slytherin passed her aisle.

She forced herself to wait for a few minutes, picking out three more books before casually wandering to the desk to check them out. She then forced herself to go her usual pace on the way back to the commonroom relieved to bump into Harry and Ron on the grand staircase.

‘Back from the Library already? Harry and I were just going to go play chess.’ Ron informed her with his usual grin. Harry looked slightly less happy but she really had more important things to worry about.

‘I need to talk with you, somewhere private.’ She hissed, pulling them sideways into an abandoned classroom on the sixth floor. She then proceeded to cast as many privacy charms as she knew, which caused both boys to raise their eyebrows.

‘What’s up?’ Ron asked, sobriety taking over his expression. She sighed heavily, pondering how to present what she had seen.

‘I saw Malfoy and Gellert talking in the library.’ Hermione finally said, ‘they were making a deal of some kind.’

‘What about?’ Harry asked, confusion and concern colouring his features.

‘I don’t know, Gellert had a privacy charm up.’ She replied and both boys looked troubled.

‘He isn’t... y’know, working with You-Know-Who is he?’ asked Ron

‘I don’t think so, but he has been a bit odd these past few days.’ Pointed out Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.

‘We had an argument.’ Hermione finally admitted, a cold feeling trickling down her spine like someone had cracked an egg over her head.

‘You don’t think that’s turned him to the dark side?’ Ron asked ominously and Hermione shrugged uncertainly. The redhead uttered an oath that would have had his mother washing his mouth with dish soap.

For the next few minutes they discussed the merits of telling a teacher. Dumbledore would have to know and Harry wanted to speak to Sirius. All the while, failure coiled in Hermione’s gut. Had she really turned Gellert away so quickly and thoroughly. Should she had chased him down over breakfast; offered her apology? The thought of doing that was almost physically repulsive, apologising to him meant that she was accepting torture, accepting his dark and twisted methods. That was something she could not do.

But was it worse to have him fighting for Voldemort? Was it worth the sacrifice of her morals to keep such a powerful and remorseless dark wizard from Voldemort’s clutches.

Suddenly it occurred to her that they were seeing the world as very black and white – divided into two obvious factions. The Order of the Phoenix and The Death Eaters, what if Grindelwald was planning to restart his own movement and become a third faction? It was certainly a more probable theory than joining the wizard he’d expressed nothing but disdain for.

She told the two boys that and Ron agreed almost immediately, his strategic mind immediately agreeing with her insight. Harry seemed less amenable to the idea but he always had been one to ignore details in exchange for a vaguer definition of good and evil.

‘One thing is for certain. We need to watch him.’ The Boy Who Lived concluded and the trio nodded along. ‘He’s too smart to not notice someone following him, but Malfoy’s not. I’ll speak to Dobby.’


	25. Chapter 25

The elf Winky had taken a shine to him and far exceeded expectations. She had a list of every family with an elf and their associations by the next morning and she had an uncanny ability to provide exactly the drink he wanted how he wanted before he’d even realised he wanted it. She wore his family crest on her fresh new uniform – which he’d provided with Hermione’s protests in mind. It had really been rather easy to get her to accept when he’d informed the little elf that his main estates were in the mountains. He ordered her to wear a warm, clean uniform rather than be incapacitated by cold in a dirty rag.

His plans were coming along excellently; it had been rather easy to secure the loyalty of the younger Malfoy – he was intelligent enough to see the truth through Voldemort’s lies, after all why would a halfblood be interested in pureblood supremecy. It was child’s play to convince the impressionable young man to work for him instead.

The Malfoy boy had quickly and easily persuaded most of his Slytherins to see reason as well which gave Gellert a circle of allies with significantly better ideas that the brash Gryffindor bunch. With a little coaching he would have them effectively operating behind Voldemort’s lines. The additional information they willingly gave him on Voldemort and his followers was also beneficial.

His next target was a line into the Ministry in the form of the Umbridge woman. Distancing himself from Harry and Hermione had gone a long way towards helping, especially when he dobbed in Ron (he’d never liked the obnoxious, lazy Weasley boy) as the one who had turned her hair blue. Weasley had received detention for a week, which also gave him a chance to see his handiwork in action with the blood quills.

Hermione and the rest of the trio were giving him strange and increasingly hostile looks, which he could easily narrow down to the fact he was hanging out with their enemies, although he didn’t know whether they had found out that he was the one to dob in Ron. They shot him nasty looks in the dormitory, so he just avoided it, sleeping in the magic room on the seventh floor. It was an arrangement that suited him perfectly as it gave him more space to plan.

His arrangements with the goblins were also going excellently, which is why he had donned a heavy cloak and  to meet with one of their chieftains. He left the castle with the other students for Hogsmeade, the crowd petering out as he walked further down the street. Past Zonkos, the Leaky Cauldron and the little cafe Tantie Baghilda had always liked, although it hadn’t been quite to obnoxious back then. He ducked into an ally to magically draw his hair down to his chin and lighten it to wispy grey. Then he threw up his hood and shuffled into the Hog’s Head.

Aberforth was the bartender, which he was relieved to have been forewarned of. Even so he still pulled his hood lower about his face when he ordered.

Less than a minute later he was discretely casting sterilising charms on his firewhisky and waiting for his Goblin contact. He kept a careful eye on the doorway, identifying everyone who came in and eavesdropping on conversations, places like this were treasure troves of information. The door opened with a bang, cool air blowing through and stirring his hood. He tugged it back down with annoyance, regretting picking a table so close to the door.

The new arrivals were incredibly out of place; Hermione’s bushy hair would have stood out a mile even without their clean, fresh appearance and muggle clothes. Surprised and very curious, Gellert watched as they ordered butterbeers and took a seat at a table near the window. Just as they sat the door flew open again, allowing the entire clan of Weasley children in. They were followed moments later by a couple of Ravenclaw girls, then a Hufflepuff who looked around the place with a sneer. They were drawing the attention of everyone in the room by now, and by the looks of things they knew it because the trio kept casting nervous looks around the room.

His Goblin contact was late, but Gellert didn’t mind as the meeting between the students began. It was worryingly easy to catch what they were planning as Hermione answered questions with increasingly short patience.

His contact arrived in another flurry of cold air through the doorway, stirring his hood again. The students fell silent for a moment as the cloaked goblin shuffled up to his table.

‘Grindelwald.’ The Goblin purred, rolling the i in a way that made him seem distinctly evil. Gellert waved his hand, pushing out the chair and handed the firewhisky over as soon as the Goblin was seated.

He managed to force his attention onto the Goblin, carefully considering each word and its possible meanings. He knew Goblins were experts when it came to taking liberties with contract terms, adjusting them to suit their interests.

‘A return of three Goblin made pieces.’ The Goblin demanded, withdrawing an inventory of one of his vaults from some pocket in its cloak. He pointed out three separate items – none of which Gellert saw much value in. He nodded as if the decision was hard to make.

‘Two pieces.’

‘Three, more if you argue.’

‘Very well, three pieces but it will be this, this and... this. I want the vault to be untraceable.’ He pointed out three different items, two of equal value but less use and a suit of armour that he knew would earn him the best service.

‘I will have a contract written for our next meeting.’ The Goblin agreed, then took a drink from the offered firewhisky. Gellert mirrored him, then they swapped glasses and drank the rest. The Goblin gave a feral grin as Gellert stood and left, taking the inventory with him. It would be useful to know what artefacts the various ministries had managed to get their hands on.

Hermione and her Gryffindor friends had already left and Gellert hurried around the corner after a figure in bandages that could have passed for a mummy if he’d gotten the drink right.

A pop and a slight distortion in the air and the figure stumbled, his rags unwrapping to reveal a tall gangly man – boy really – with acne splattered across his face and neck. He shuffled backwards, spluttering something about friends in high places as Gellert levelled his wand at him.

‘Imperio.’


	26. Chapter 26

He assumed Percy Weasley was related to Ron Weasley and his gang, which meant that he was the brother that was in close with the Umbridge woman. Using the imperius curse was always slightly disorientating for him because the jumble of emotions that came with most humans was almost overwhelming.

Percy was ambitious and hated his family for bringing him down, so even if the pureblood had known the first thing about imperius defence, it still would have been easy to persuade him to send a letter to Ron dissuading him from starting a defence against the dark arts class.

So he knew exactly when to be waiting at the window for Percy’s owl and he managed to intercept it before it had even been noticed by the trio at the couches by the fire. They noticed him releasing the bird though, which ignited a flurry of concerned whispering. He almost caved, this would make their lessons much more difficult to schedule but he was certain Hermione would be up for the challenge and it would gain him an invaluable position in the circle Umbridge was building.

He knocked on the door, waiting until he heard the prim order to enter.

Umbridge’s office was as pink as he remembered, although the slight feral cats on the plates he’d smashed on his last visit were missing, replaced by different ones. It was a shame, he’d hoped to find the slight discrepancy to keep his attention during what he expected would soon be numerous tedious meetings.

‘What is it, Abernathy?’ She asked, looking up from the essays she was grading.

‘I found a letter, Ma’am.’ He answered smartly, letting his accent burr through. The official put down her pink quill precisely, then looked at him with patronising interest.

‘Does something in it concern you, Mr. Abernathy?’ She asked, readjusting the _high inquisitor_ sign on her desk.

‘Yes Ma’am, I think you should see it.’ He handed the letter to her and she took it with a little huff.

It took her a couple of moments to read it, her eyes darting like a frog following the path of a fly. He waited in silence, wondering if there was a way he could curse the plates into silence. The constant mewling was reaching the end of his nerved when Umbridge finally put the letter down.

‘They’re planning to train themselves?’ She inquired, colour tingeing her cheeks. He remained silent as the woman dithered before finally snatching a sheet of pink parchment and scribbling a letter. She was pressing so hard with the quill that she carved grooves into the paper. It finally snapped as she scrawled her signature sending ink spraying across the room.

‘Mr. Abernathy.’ She called him back to focus and he snapped to attention. She tittered at the Durmstrang style salute. ‘Oh you poor dear, Professor Dumbledore really hasn’t helped you settle in at all. We don’t make children do that kind of thing here.’ She informed him and he struggled to keep his temper in check. The cats were beginning to give him a headache and Umbridge’s patronising didn’t help.

‘I’m hoping to arrange a little group of students to help me keep things in check here at Hogwarts.’ She continued, ‘It would be a wonderful opportunity for you if you hope to go on to join the ministry.’

Gellert nodded, hoping he came across as eager; it wasn’t an expression he’d tried to put on much.

‘That’s a good boy. Would you do me a favour and run this letter up to the owlery, it’s for the minister.’ He nodded and took the parchment, not needing to feign his eagerness to leave the room.

He dispatched the letter using a school owl, then returned to his magic room. It seemed to have settled as the planning room for the moment, so all of his notes had remained organised on their peg boards. He took a seat, then jumped when a pot of tea appeared opposite him a moment later.

‘Winky?’ He asked into the apparently empty room. The squeaky reply came from the other side of the table as a plate of dinner appeared.

‘Winky thought Master Gellert would like some dinner. Winky also thought Master might be interested to know that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are on their way here with Dobby.’

He nodded, thanking the elf and taking a sip of the tea. As usual it was perfect, even cooled to not burn his mouth. He drank it quickly but asked Winky to bring the dinner to him later. The young elf preened as he praised her quick thinking and then disappeared with a pop as Gellert cast a disillusionment on himself.

He left the room, tucking himself behind a brazier so the flickering of the flames would disguise the slight discrepancy caused by the charm. He only had to wait a while before he saw Harry and Hermione appear from around the corner, led by an elf dressed in an absurd collection of hats and socks. Ron would still be in detention with Umbridge.

‘Here Harry Potter, Sir.’ The elf pulled the duo to a halt right in front of where Gellert sat. ‘Harry Potter must think of what he needs very hard.’

The elf dragged them back and forth in a pattern Gellert had walked many times, then a different door appeared in the wall. This one was much larger than the one to Gellert’s planning room, double metal doors that towered above the student’s heads. Hermione pushed open the door and the duo slipped inside, leaving the door ajar. Gellert slipped in behind them, listening to their explanations of awe. Hermione stood by a well stocked booksheld, reading the titles and barely containing her glee as she announced the most exciting ones. Harry on the other hand was more interested in a large pile of dummies and decorative pillows.

‘This is perfect Hermione!’ Harry exclaimed, moving on to join Hermione at the bookshelf.

‘We should schedule a meeting, let’s let everyone know at breakfast tomorrow.’

Gellert left then as the duo made their way towards the door. He doubted scheduling the meeting would be as simple as they anticipated. Umbridge was almost certain to have come up with a way to stop the defence classes. That would make it a little more difficult to find out when the meeting would be held but he was certain he was up to the challenge. Hermione would have an army of friends to protect her by the time the year was out.


	27. Chapter 27

The notice had appeared on the board that morning, banning all clubs and groups. Much to the surprise of the boys, Gryffindor had no more trouble than Ravenclaw securing the Quiddich team. The Defence Against the Dark Arts club was another story all together though. She’d met Harry and Ron in the common room that morning, joined quickly by the rest of the Weasleys.

‘She must know.’ Ginny pointed out into the general din of concerned voices.

‘We’re still doing it of course.’ Hermione announced to the group and everyone fell silent, looking at her in shock. ‘Well, Voldemort _is_ out there and we need to be prepared.’

‘Hermione’s right. Voldemort’s already been inside the school twice. We’re not safe anywhere.’ Fred added, his twin nodding along.

‘Look, we’ve found a place. How about we meet tonight?’ Harry decided, speaking lowly so as not to be overheard. There was a chorus of agreements, and Harry described where to find the room and asking everyone to pass the message around. Hermione couldn’t help but smile proudly as Harry directed his peers. She had been right, he would make an excellent teacher.

The day dragged by. She couldn’t concentrate properly in class, her thoughts kept drifting to the upcoming meeting and she had to struggle her way through Runes and Transfiguration, feeling empathy for the boys for their lack of focus for the first time. Fortunately she had a free afternoon, so after lunch she hurried to her dormitory to work on an idea she’d had.

With their little group now illegal, it had become vital that they find an efficient and subtle way of communicating with each other. Fortunately the gossip created by the new decree covered the organisation of today’s meeting but they would need something better for the future. She’d taken inspiration ironically from those they were trying to fight; another illegal group with a need to coordinate meetings. Her idea was a little different – she didn’t want it to be burned onto their skin for a start, nor should it be something obviously identifiable. Scrap parchment had been her first idea but it was too obvious and too easy to throw away accidently.

Then she’d come up with the idea of a galleon, transfiguring the writing around the edge to read a serial number that corresponded to the date of the meeting. The tricky part was the spell that would change all the coins at the same time – it was a complex one, far beyond OWL level and the frustrating part was that she knew Grindelwald could have had this little hiccup arranged in minutes. She spent the entire afternoon slaving over it.

By the time the meeting rolled around she had managed to produce just enough functional coins. They were a little rough around the edges; the font around the edge wasn’t exactly the same and they were prone to getting uncomfortably hot when the date changed but for now they would do the job.

She swept the coins into her bag and battled a brush through her frazzled hair. Harry and Ron were waiting for her in the common room and they quickly hurried down to the corridor. They’d decided to get there a couple of minutes early to make sure everything was as it should be, but the door appeared without any issues.

She pushed the door open, eagerly heading over to the bookshelves again. Then she froze, there was already someone sitting on one of the cushions. His blond hair was instantly recognisable and she felt cold dismay trickle through her. Of course Gellert had been with her when she had discovered the room but how did he know they would be having a meeting here tonight? In fact, how did he know they would be having a meeting at all?

She levelled her wand at him, knowing even as she did that it was a stupid idea. Surprisingly she wasn’t disarmed immediately and she soon felt the reassuring presence of the two boys at her side, seeing their wand tips in her peripheral vision.

‘What are you doing here?’ Ron demanded and Gellert looked up at their three wand tips with an expression of mild surprise.

‘I’m here for your lesson.’ He replied, as if his knowing about their illegal society was nothing for them to be concerned about.

‘Don’t lie.’ Hermione jabbed her wand at him threateningly and he went slightly cross eyed as he tried to focus on the tip. Finally he gave a frustrated huff and knocked her wand away in a lightning fast movement.

‘I didn’t. I’m here for your lesson.’ He stood in a smooth movement that had the trio scrambling backwards in alarm.

‘How did you know about us?’ Harry demanded, stepping forwards again.

‘Well you were hardly subtle.’ Grindelwald scoffed, ‘I overheard you talking about it.’

‘I don’t trust you.’ The Boy-Who-Lived decided but he sheathed his wand and cast him one more suspicious glance before wandering away with Ron. Hermione was less inclined to believe him, but she knew she was more likely to get answers from him alone so she waited for Ron to follow before summoning a pillow from the pile and sitting opposite the dark wizard.

He soon joined her, picking up his book again. The doors opened and a flood of red-headed and red-robed Gryffindors poured in, filling the massive room with activity and noise as Harry and Ron greeted them.

‘Why are you really here? You don’t need lessons from Harry.’ Hermione asked quietly, peering at Gellert over her book.

‘Neither do you.’ He pointed out, ‘I’m here because there’s nothing _he_ can teach you.’

With Dumbledore’s warning to keep him close ringing in her mind, Hermione decided to let his indiscretions with Malfoy slide. She already knew he operated differently to her, in fact he probably had more in common with You-Know-Who than he did with the order in how he did things and Dumbledore hadn’t been at all concerned about his behaviour so she dismissed it, intent on giving him a second chance.

They both returned to their books and read in silence until the loud click of a lock echoed through the room. Silence fell and Hermione quickly stood, her bag of galleons clinking. She let Harry introduce the lesson, then insisted on a name and an election, catching Gellert’s exasperated expression from the corner of her eye. When that was done she handed out the coins, trying to remain modest as her use of the complex magic was recognised by the Ravenclaws.

‘That’s some impressive magic.’ Gellert told her as she finished handing out coins. Unlike with the Ravenclaws, she couldn’t suppress the smile that bloomed on her face at his compliment. Her father had often said to only take compliments from equals, so his compliments were worth far more than the rest of the group combined. ‘What, don’t I get one?’ He asked, humour colouring his tone.

‘Somehow, I doubt you need one.’ She joked as Harry split them up into pairs and set them practicing the disarming charm. Her wand flew out of her wand and Gellert caught it neatly. She huffed. ‘I wasn’t ready.’

‘You won’t be most of the time.’ He replied, tossing the wand back. She bellowed the incantation as soon as the wood touched her fingers and a jet of powerful red light shot from her wand... and soared past Gellert’s left shoulder. He laughed, and she deflated. Her father had also taught her to only take insults from equals too.

The lesson was excruciating. Gellert’s spells hurt so much that she was certain they weren’t just disarming spells, although that might have had something to do with how determinedly she was clinging to the thin strip of wood each time. On the positive side, when he’d let her disarm him she’d actually managed to catch the wand. Of course, he’d then managed to _wandlessly_ disarm her to get his wand back. She hadn’t even managed to gain any satisfaction when one of Luna’s strange blue iterations of the spell caused the nearby bookshelf to catch fire. He’d erected some shield in the blink of an eye and wordlessly extinguished the fire.

‘The best defence against disarming is to deflect it.’ He instructed after Harry had made everyone pause, relentlessly restarting his assault as soon as the noise started up again. She hurriedly cast a Protego, which dissipated before the spell even hit it. He returned her wand and this time she cast the shield later, after the spell had hit.

‘Reactions, reactions. Know what the spell is before you react. Don’t shield against a Killing Curse.’ He managed to lecture even as he sent another disarming charm at her. She managed to intercept this one but she didn’t celebrate this time, instead casting a disarming charm immediately in retaliation. He praised her as he too deflected her jinx (which hit Neville in the back, sending his wand twirling into the rafters).

By the end of the lesson she was only too happy when he melted away, disappearing before Harry had wrapped up without her even noticing the exact moment that he left.

She listened to Ron congratulate Harry all the way up to the common room, too exhausted to do much but murmur vague agreements. It had been good, she’d learned a lot but that didn’t make it enjoyable.


	28. Chapter 28

Gellert snapped awake to the muffled groans of Harry. He was thrashing in bed, the covers tangled around him. Ron was already climbing out of bed and the other boys were beginning to stir. It only took him a glance to realise this was no ordinary bad dream. Dark magic was coiling around the boy, pulsing in time to his moans and mutters.

He was out from his covers in seconds and leaning over the boy.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ One of the other boys asked from their bed. Gellert snapped an order for two of the boys to hold him still and they complied immediately. He levelled his wand between the boy’s eyes, surprised when nobody objected.

‘Legilimens!’ He cried, forcing his way through the barriers of the boy’s sleeping mind. Suddenly he was seeing a corridor from the eyes of something low to the ground but the vision was fuzzy, third or even fourth hand. The only explanation was that Harry was seeing something in the mind of someone else, maybe someone who was already performing legilimency one another person. The person – or animal – in the vision moved closer to a man he recognised, then suddenly lashed out. The man cried out in agony as two massive puncture wounds scarred his arm, blood sprayed out as Harry finally jerked awake. For a moment Gellert had the disorientating experience of staring at himself – was his hair really that dark? Then he withdrew from Harry’s mind as the boy leaned of the edge of his bed and hurled his guts up.

‘Ron, wake your family. Hermione too. Your brothers will have a way past the stairs.’ He ordered, casting a levitation charm on the boy-who-lived as he incoherently started to try and explain what he’d seen.  He ordered the remaining boys to say nothing to Umbridge if she came asking; fortunately it seemed even the Finnigan boy seemed to realise the severity of the situation because he nodded along with the others.

He hurried down to the common room where a confused and sleepy looking huddle of children waited for him. They followed him without his having to tell them, hurrying through the darkened corridors of the school. It was so late that even the patrolling teachers had gone to bed, so they encountered nobody.

Albus was already awake, although wearing a set of purple sleep robes that would have been old fashioned when Gellert was young but with a pattern that would still be considered garish today. He sat at his desk, looking as infuriatingly in control as normal.

‘Weasley’s been attacked by a snake. Harry saw it.’ He said promptly and efficiently. There was a moment of silence, then pandemonium erupted as the children began asking questions, each trying to shout above the others. Albus didn’t waste a moment, spinning to speak to two of the portraits. Within moments he had them hurrying out of their frames. Gellert conjured a polished wooden throne carved with ornate snakes, which was an annoying quirk that was sure to incriminate him in the eyes of the light. Dumbledore especially would notice the change from his old predisposition to wolves.

He dumped the black-haired boy into the chair and turned to one of the massive windows. From here he could see Umbridge’s office, a candle illuminating the inside. Even as Dumbledore sent Fawkes to act as a lookout, he poked one of the small triangular panes of glass out with his wand and sent a powerful sleeping charm into her room. A moment later he conjured a strong gust of wind to extinguish the candle. When it wasn’t relit he knew that she had fallen victim to the spell.

‘Umbridge is pacified.’ He announced, interrupting Harry’s shaky retelling of the story. His old friend sent him a troubled look as Gellert gave an irritated sigh. ‘She’s asleep.’ He clarified. He strolled over, leaning on one of the carved snake heads on Potter’s chair. ‘I’ll talk to you about it later. For now they need to go to London.’

Even the obtuse Englishman must have been able to read the message on Gellert’s face because he busied himself turning an old black kettle into a portkey. A minute later the students had disappeared in a flash of blue light and Gellert was left alone with Dumbledore.

He took a seat in one of the chairs.

Albus watched him.

‘If Voldemort wasn’t aware of their connection, he certainly will be now.’ Gellert pointed out into the silence. Dumbledore nodded sagely and stood, crossing to one of his delicate tables and lifted a miniature Petous. He carried it to the table and tapped it lightly with his wand. Both wizards watched as miniature puffs of green smoke started to spurt from the top.

‘Where did you find this? A tip?’ Gellert asked derisively as the instrument began to hoot warningly. Albus sent him a scathing look that lost much of its effect as a cloud of the smoke obscured his beard and he spluttered.

‘Not all of us came from a family with connections like yours.’ Albus finally wheezed as the smoke began to coalesce into a solid shape. ‘You could help you know.’

Gellert probably could have helped, even if he hadn’t already read the answer Dumbledore sought from the twists of dark magic that surrounded the Potter boy. People with divination training could always get better answers from a Petous, even more so if they had a touch of sight.

‘I just wanted to see if that pile of scrap actually worked.’ He laughed, Albus just gave him a frustrated glare. ‘Potter is a horcrux.’

Albus froze, in fact, the entire office fell silent, the portraits that had been whispering quietly among themselves suddenly paying rapt attention. The sound of Gellert unwrapping one of the sherbet lemons on the desk was startlingly loud.

To his credit, Albus didn’t doubt him for a second, delving straight into questions that Gellert couldn’t answer. It wasn’t a subject he knew much about, having done only enough research to discover that one became a wraith before giving up. Any texts that he may have owned on the matter were in his family estates, all of which he suspected were under watch.

For now, further knowledge on the horcruxes was beyond his reach.

He managed to get away just as the sun was beginning to creep over the horizon, borrowing a school broom to fly to his apparition point in the forest. He apparated to London, arriving just after Molly Weasley hurried around the corner. She recognised him immediately, rushing to envelop him in a motherly hug as almost sobbing her gratitude for his intervention as he stood stiff as a board, unsure how to react in such an unfamiliar situation. He tried to subtly shake her off as she bustled him into the house, finally getting relief when she caught sight of Hermione, Harry and her children. The mother swept towards her brood and Gellert was quickly forgotten.

A hand touched his, and he was halfway to his wand when he recognised Hermione. He almost considered putting a sleeping charm on her and escaping – he’d been avoiding her since their argument. The only time they’d spoken he’d thrown enough spells at her that she didn’t have a chance to talk to him which was an excuse that was unlikely to work this time around.

‘Am I allowed to ask what you talked about with Professor Dumbledore?’ She asked gently, that lack of accusations coming as a pleasant surprise. He considered his answer carefully – Hermione would have to know eventually, but now was not the time to tell her.

‘Just theories on what Harry saw, how he’s connected to Voldemort.’ He answered vaguely.

‘Does it go both ways?’ That was why he liked her so much; she was well beyond her years when it came to working out the true issue rather than getting hung up on the immediate effects.

‘Yes but we think Voldemort hasn’t been aware of the connection.’

‘He is now?’ Hermione asked.

‘It’s the only explanation for how we discovered him so quickly.’

‘So what next?’

‘We try to teach Harry to defend himself.’

They both turned to watch the skinny, black haired boy as he helped his godfather crack eggs into the frying pan, the Weasley family arrayed around them as they celebrated the news that their father would recover.


	29. Chapter 29

Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not a man that ‘snuck.’ He had caught sneaks, ordered sneaking and occasionally just observed sneakers, however he had never actually snuck himself. His previous covert operations had usually involved blending in, or just not letting anyone know where he was going.

So he found himself doubting himself as he placed a silencing charm on his feet, a disillusionment charm over his body and a notice-me-not charm around him. He took a broom with him, having never actually been to the estate before. He could apparate to Berlin, then fly for a couple of hours to the Herz mountains. From there it became more difficult because the estate was unplottable; he only suspected that it was probably near Brocken – a peak famous in both the muggle and wizarding world for its witchcraft.

It was bitterly cold in Berlin and it only grew worse as he took off into the sky. He used one hand to clutch his cloak tightly around him, alternating between that and the one holding onto the broom whenever the cold began to make them numb. Within minutes he could no longer feel his nose, the bitter wind stinging his cheeks despite warming charms.

Despite the discomfort, he found his mind whirring through his plans. Finding out the nature of Harry’s connection to Riddle was a major setback. It was a branch of magic he had made a point to never explore and he was fortunate that Gellert had at least the foundations of the required knowledge. This mission was to expand that knowledge, as much as Albus hated to arm his old friend in that way.

A ripple in the darkness of the night caught his attention and a frustrated huff escaped him. He didn’t want to know how Gellert knew that he would be coming here; tonight of all nights, but the help of the powerful dark wizard wouldn’t go amiss.

He descended to the ground, skimming across the snowy trees until he found a rocky outcrop large enough to land on. A dark shadow already waited for him, looking out over the mountains as though he owned them. Which on second thought he probably did.

‘I won’t ask how you knew I was coming.’ He said, reinforcing the concealment charms he wore. Gellert’s silhouette wavered and disappeared as he cast similar enchantments, his voice drifting eerily from nowhere as he laughed darkly.

‘The estate is down there.’ He pointed to a dark building that nestled into the mountain opposite them, visible only as a black cut out against sparkling snow. Several pale lights flickered around it, pinpricks against the backdrop. Those were the aurors that had been stationed there since Gellert had escaped from prison, waiting at irregular intervals around the ward boundaries.

The primary defence was a barrier, similar in design to the Fidelius through which only a marked Witch or Wizard could pass. Of course, he wore the mark but Grindelwald certainly did not. The second barrier, invented by himself for the sole purpose of keeping Grindelwald out was based around the power of love. Only one who had experienced it could pass the barrier, which excluded Gellert, who was physically incapable of the emotion. He explained this to Gellert as they began their descent down the valley.

The space beneath the trees was relatively clear with almost no snow and the difficulty he experience traversing the terrain was well worth the wealth of creatures that lived in the protected valley. Several times he stumbled over Woyllerm holes, distinguishable by the small deposits of circular pebbles outside. Drocore whistled in alarm from the trees, marking Grindelwald’s position. He even caught sight of the wild thestrals that roamed the ground, pawing at the ground for the Flobberworms that formed the bulk of their diet in their natural habitat. He almost felt privileged to be here and in more peaceful times could have spent day just observing.

He knew he had fallen far behind the more agile Gellert, privileged as he was with his elixir of youth. Then, from the darkness emerged a creature he had only heard rumours of, like the black swan or a white tiger. The unicorn’s coat was a dark, almost gunmetal grey, its horn and eyes alone shone the typical silver. He backed away slowly as the unicorn emerged from the shadows. It tossed it’s head and whickered, as if responding to a call a second of these strange unicorns emerged. This one was dappled, bronze flecked with gold with a gangly colt weaving between its legs. The foal was just beginning to shed its golden coat, but the eyes gleamed crimson. Corrupted.

‘You’ve found the herd.’ Gellert’s voice made him jump.

‘What did you do to them?’ It truly was a terrible thing to see, what deeds had been performed to twist these unicorns so far from their pure origins.

‘Me? Nothing. These are natural, genetic mutations that have been chased from their herds. They gather here, my family used to care for them.’

The dappled bronze unicorn snapped a twig as it shifted closer, snuffling at Gellert. The dark wizard allowed the unicorn to snuffle around him, and then he reached up and patted the animal. Albus stared at him, dumbstruck. It made sense of course, of course unicorns would have mutations in the same way that every other animal did but it was hard to reconcile these creatures with the purity of normal unicorns.

‘Are they tame?’ He asked, eyeing the grey one warily as it snorted and pawed the ground.

‘They are incredibly intelligent, enough to be able to understand you.’ He joked, his hand moving up to rub at the unicorn’s horn. The beast made a noise that sounded like a purr of maleficent pleasure. ‘Would you take us to the house?’

And so Albus found himself mounted on the back of a dark unicorn as it sped through the forest, wondering if this is how bewildering the magical world was to muggles.

With the unicorn’s help, they reached the castle in no time. Now back to sneaking again, the two disillusioned wizards crouched in the ditch beside the driveway. In front of them arched the massive black gates, metal wolves snarling continuously among sharp metal briars. Reaching high above their heads in place of walls loomed an ominous wall of giant, tangled thorns, entirely obscuring the castle from sight.

‘Once you passed your wards, what did you intend to do with mine?’ Gellert asked and Albus grimaced. He had planned to wardbreak his way in, but just a superficial brush of the warding made him glad that he hadn’t attempted that. The warding on this estate was full of spells that drained life force, paralysed and killed. It had more in common with the wards on the ancient barrows than a modern household.

‘I rather hoped you might help with that.’ He admitted. He would have to break the warding on the house to get Gellert in but none of those ancient, terrible wards would need to be tampered with.

‘Can you do it from a distance?’ The other wizard shifted so that he could check on the aurors. They’d moved to huddle around their fire, rubbing gloved hands above the flame and moaning about their lot in life as the wolves continued to bark and snarl.

‘Possibly, although I suspect that might be your forte more than mine these days.’ Albus admitted, eyeing where he knew Gellert had sheathed the elder wand.

‘I’m not very subtle.’ The dark wizard grouched.

‘Don’t lie. You can be just as subtle as you want.’

‘Not as subtle as you can be from inside.’

It was a good point and one that Dumbledore unfortunately had to concede, so Gellert conjured a couple of Luapa – savage wolf-goat hybrids that plagued these areas – to provide a distraction. Albus could only conclude that Luapa attacks must be frequent to those outside the safety of the walls because the aurors disappeared to back up their colleagues without question, leaving the front gates entirely undefended.

Praying that his disillusionment charm held, lest the aurors come back and he got caught sneaking into Grindelwald’s manor, he crept up to the gate. Magic rippled over him as he passed the first ward, then the cooler touch of his own ward brushed his skin. He waved his arms in front of his face until his hand was submerged in the skin-like barrier, magic tickling and lifting the hairs. Then he sank into the twists of magic and began to tease the strands apart.

He felt more than heard Gellert join him as the first ward stretched far enough to create a small tear. The dark wizard hastily conjured a wind as voices echoed from around the wall, obscuring their footprints in the snow. Working faster, Albus hurried to dismantle the last defence. It was difficult to concentrate, what with the wolves barking and snarling. The academic side of him wondered if perhaps they couldn’t see their master through the ward, the practical part told him that was a question for another time. The ward was twisted, he decided, there should have been methodical webs of magic, running to the focal point that the caster had stood at, along with a binder to hold the complex magic together. Instead, there seemed to be several casting points, so the binder might have been this tangled strand? Or was it that one? He tugged on the two experimentally, feeling the ward thrum warningly. Ah no, he realised, that went to that strange gathering over there, but if it was the binder on this nucleus, how did it anchor?

He could hear the crunch of snow under foot now, the aurors were just around the corner. Gellert was shifting, readying himself to fight.

He followed another strand, then another, desperate now. That one had no anchor, so it couldn’t be a binder, nor that one. Unless, if they had cast together and anchored to one another, instead of a physical anchor...

‘Gellert, touch the ward.’

The dark wizard looked at him like he was nuts, but cautiously complied. The magical strands trembled at his touch, flexing, stretching like elastic around his palm. Then the strands snapped, the recoil washed lightly across the two wizards, rustling leaves and causing little flurries of snow. Around the corner the two aurors stopped, making exclamations of surprise. The two older wizards didn’t wait to watch as the strands of the ward crumbled like ash. Gellert shoved open the gate, wolves suddenly silent and compliant, and they slipped through just as an auror’s magelight soared into the air.

The gate shut with a clang behind them and Albus froze as the two aurors appeared, wands drawn as they patrolled the brightly lit area.

‘Can you see anything?’ One asked, shining his light into the forest. The other came right up to the gates, peering straight into Albus face.

‘Nothing here.’ The auror answered, then jumped away with a curse as one of the wolves snapped in his face. ‘damn wolves. I dunno why they keep us here, Grindelwald’s not suddenly going to show up after five years.’ The magelight dimmed and the two aurors sheathed their wands, returning to the fire. The two wizards frozen behind the gate relaxed.

Albus turned to get his first look at his friend’s childhood home then. The castle was small as far as castles went; all fairytale spires and turrets rather than the solid towers the British preferred. The grounds themselves were messy – the giant thorn wall sending creepers across the lawns which tangled among out of control devil’s snare. Dark Abonnole flowers peeked up from beneath venomous tentacula. Grindelwald strode confidently up the path, using severing charms liberally on the various tendrils that waved at them threateningly.

Albus followed hurriedly, knowing that it wouldn’t be wise to face the wild vegetation alone. They passed into the shadow of the castle, underneath a massive archway with portcullis spikes gleaming ominously green – a lingering enchantment whose effect he didn’t even want to know, especially considering the plant life that must have been cultivated in the gardens. His boot squelched sickeningly into something and a waft of fertiliser reached his nose. His nose wrinkled, then his entire expression soured as he saw Gellert’s amused expression.

‘Mind the dragon dung.’ The German wizard laughed before hurrying through into a massive courtyard. Albus almost laughed, then came a rumbling purr that shook him to his bones. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe the dark wizard had been serious. Did his family have a dragon? Then again, that German fairytale writer must have gotten his ideas from somewhere.

The dragon was large, probably of a similar age to Grindelwald himself. The beast was a dark grey, the crimson eyes identifying it as an Iron Belly. It had its body draped around the courtyard, effectively blocking the way to the entrance hall. The strangest part was that the dragon was purring like a cat, massive head arching up as the relatively tiny Grindelwald scratched underneath its chin.

‘We hatch the eggs in Amortentia.’ He explained, which as Albus was now witnessing must have incredible effects on the psychology of the dragon. It would be a fascinating study for another time; how Amortentia could affect infants.

They slipped past the devoted dragon and through the door into the castle. The mournful moans of the mighty beast creating a haunting soundtrack as Albus caught his first sight of Gellert’s childhood home.

They entered into a massive hall that was dominated by a massive staircase which curved up and split at the top. High, vaulted ceilings gave a sense of lofty airiness, matched by the pale grey and blue mosaic on the floor. High, arched windows cast eerie shadows in the mounted skulls of hundreds of dragons and Albus found himself reminded of the morbid habit of house elf heads at Grimmauld Place.

It was difficult to picture the young wizard he had known with this dark fairytale castle, he’d always imagined him in somewhere warm or solid. A log cabin or a viking longhouse, maybe a stout little fortress on some mountain; he’d never had the airy grandeur that he’d expect from a place like this. They climbed the first staircase, going straight through the massive archway instead of taking one of the winged staircases.

The corridor beyond was carpeted in a dark blue, paintings decorated the walls between slender gothic windows. One depicted a witch in flowing black robes casting a curse over a town, another showed a witch in a ball gown that glittered with thousands of little fairy lights, shoes made of glass and a matching glass crown on her head. Even in the half light her expression was cruel. He wiped the dust off the plaque at the bottom – Princess Cinderella Grindelwald. Several paintings down a tapestry of a tall man in a heavy silver ermine cloak held a mighty bear on a leash. He fell far behind Grindelwald as he stopped to look at each painting; Luella Grindelwald with her adopted muggle Rapunzel, Queen Grimhilde who had poisoned all the other heirs to the throne so that her family might rule. In fact, it seemed other generation there was a Grindelwald on a muggle throne. The ones that weren’t on a throne seemed to have busied themselves tricking, cursing and otherwise tormenting muggles, He walked back through generations of witches and wizards, the earliest was a wizard that had taken a muggle’s soul in exchange for superpowers and the most recent was probably Grindelwald’s father who had caused havoc by experimenting with beauty potions on muggles.

‘Are you coming?’ Gellert asked from the shadows at the end of the room, sounding slightly irritated.

‘Yes, yes...’ It really was a very dark family, that icy blonde hair and carving a bloody trail through muggle history. His eyes drifted back to where he had seen that tapestry of the soul-stealing wizard. This was certainly somewhere where dark texts could be found.

He tore himself away from the images, following Grindelwald into another corridor to the left. They climbed a small flight of stairs, then crossed a breezy bridge between two towers. They came out into a tall room. Book shelves lines the circular walls, a wooden staircase spiralled up the tower into murky gloom far above their heads. Albus peered over the banister infront of them; the library continued below them, deep into the ground.

‘Is there a system?’ He asked weakly.

‘Vaguely, but all we need to take is one of the archive books, they have a variety of the scrying charm on them.’ Grindelwald said. ‘They’re black, leather with that old jewelled and embossed cover on them. Check all the landings, there’ll be one left there.’

Albus watched helplessly as Gellert began jogging up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He took one last look at the library before taking the other direction.

It was like walking through the restricted section – dusty ancient volumes, strange substances spilled across the covers. He reached the first landing, finding a desk and a half finished letter about a ‘virgin tithe’. The next one down had a chair and an empty fireplace recessed into the wall. He could see Grindelwald’s wandlight above him, almost fading into the darkness. He passed the third floor and began to wonder if he should just stop, there would be a lot of floors to climb up again if he kept going, Gellert was sure to find one of those books soon.

Sure enough, a parchment plane suddenly nailed him in the back of his neck. He picked it up, reading the scrawled note, then looked up to where he could see Grindelwald’s light bobbing down the staircase again. It would be a long climb up.


	30. Chapter 30

Grindelwald was being elusive again. He’d stayed behind with Dumbledore, presumably to discuss what had occurred. Feeling like an intruder, she had sat awkwardly with Harry and Sirius in the corner of the kitchen, nursing a butterbeer and wondering what would be the best way to excuse herself back to bed. She knew that they would hear nothing for several hours yet and it seemed rather pointless to wait up.

Gellert popped by in the early hours, just for long enough to tell them that Arthur was past the worst of it but still a long way from stable. He certainly didn’t sugar coat his words, and Ginny looked like she was about to burst into tears as he left. Hermione jumped to her feet and hurried out after him, intent on scolding him. He may not feel sadness but he surely must understand what the Weasleys were going through. His insensitivity really was inexcusable.

She caught up with him on the stairs, reaching out to grab his arm. He sighed and turned to face her and she completely forgot what she had been going to say.

It was the first time they had been face to face since their argument, she realised with a start. He looked exhausted; dark circles were painted under his eyes and there was a sag to his frame that she had never seen before. Beyond that, like a sixth sense she could feel an emptiness, like something she had never realised was missing until it was.

‘What’s wrong?’ She found herself asking and if anything he seemed to collapse in on himself more.

‘I’m 113. I am far too old to be orchestrating another war.’ He admitted, sounding slightly pained.

‘You’re not orchestrating a war, you’re helping to win one.’ Pointed out Hermione.

‘I’m the only one on this side with any real experience. Last time wasn’t going so well until Harry conveniently ended it and he had nothing to do with my war. Dumbledore is walking blind.’ The dark wizard sneered. He carried on before Hermione could protest. ‘You can only win if you are the one orchestrating, otherwise you are reacting. That never makes a winner.’

Hermione was unable to protest, she was fairly certain Ron had said the same in relation to chess several times.

‘Is that what you’re doing then? Orchestrating the war?’ She asked, wondering what he was truly planning.

‘Yes, now let me go to bed whilst I still can.’ This time she could only release him as he slipped away up the stairs. The shutting of his door was a loud crack in the silence of the house.

He had made a good point, she decided. Perhaps it was time to do some orchestrating of her own. Grindelwald could fight Voldemort, she could fight Umbridge.

She had to wait to begin her plans until the next morning. Ron was only in a shape to talk after he had visited his father in hospital, understandably. Even so, she didn’t wait long after they had returned home to pull him aside.

‘I need your help, Ron.’ She announced, once they were alone in that same drawing room where she had first confronted Grindelwald when he joined the order.

‘What with?’ He asked, seeming puzzled.

‘I spoke to Gellert last night. He said something very similar to what you said once. We need to start going on the offensive, getting in control of this war.’ She explained. Ron was nodding, already understanding what she was saying.

‘We need to go on the offensive.’ Ron finished for her and she nodded emphatically.

‘The first step is to get our side of the story out.’ Hermione decided.

‘What about Loony? Her dad edits that wacky newspaper, right? He’d print an interview with Harry in it.’

‘Brilliant Ron. I could even get Skeeter to conduct the interview.’ A thrill was beginning to course through Hermione. For once they might be in control, they might be able to fight back instead of barely managing to save the day.

‘We need proof.’ She decided. ‘How are we going to get proof?’

‘We need to get him out in public – find something he cares about enough to come and get it...’

‘What about whatever the order is guarding? If we could get him to think it was somewhere else where only he could get to it.’

‘Brilliant Hermione. Harry says it’s somewhere in the ministry. We could steal it, hide it safely at Hogwarts. With both Grindelwald and Dumbledore there there isn’t anywhere safer, then let it slip where we’ve hidden a decoy.’

‘How are we going to get into the ministry?’ Hermione asked after the two had considered for a moment.

‘Ask Grindelwald. He’s broken into so many ministries.’

Both students jumped when someone knocked on the door, asking if they were okay. They hurriedly drew apart, not having realised how close together they were. Ron called out that they were coming and Hermione took several steadying breaths in the vain hope that it would clear some of the flush from her cheeks.

The duo joined the rest of the family for lunch and Hermione forced herself to look at both Ron and Grindelwald no more than usual. The Dark Wizard was deep in conversation with Sirius, from what she knew the two had bonded over shared detention time and less than stellar pureblood upbringings. She eavesdropped as the two seemed to compete over pre-roman ancestors and how psycho they had been.

From what she gathered, Gellert’s family had a much longer heritage than even the Blacks and both families had graphic histories of violence against Muggles. She listened as Sirius recounted how one particularly batty Black lord in the 14th Century had cursed one family to bad luck if they ever broke a glass vase. Disturbingly, Gellert seemed more amused by the muggle’s fate than how batty Sirius ancestor had been.

She held out until after dinner, even managing to stay for her customary book in front of the fireplace. As fire was once again stoked, she gave up, excusing herself and heading up to Gellert’s room. He was waiting for her, seemingly expecting her.

‘You had something to talk to me about?’ He asked.

‘Er, yes. Ron and I were talking about what you said yesterday. We thought it would be a good idea to draw Voldemort out into public so that at least people would be on guard and we wouldn’t need to hide anymore.’ She began and he nodded for her to continue. Reassured, she forged into their plan eagerly.

‘We were thinking, what if we stole whatever weapon it is the order are guarding, made a big show of it, then tricked him into thinking it’s hidden somewhere. We could hide the real thing in Hogwarts. It would draw him out into public.’

‘The order are guarding a prophesy. It seems people have forgotten how prophesies work in the last century. They are as likely to come true as not and Voldemort has already heard the essence of this one.’ The dark wizard reached behind him to a massive pile of parchment which surrounded a large black book on the desk. ‘So there is no real value in protecting the prophesy, we may as well just open up the way and lure him in.’

‘Can we do that?’ Hermione asked eagerly. That would be far easier than what her and Ron had planned. Gellert had opened a pot of ink and was scratching notes.

‘Not until the order stop guarding it.’ Frustration leaked through his voice as he said this.

‘And you’d have to stop the death eaters just walking in and taking it.’

‘They can’t, unless he can lure Harry in. Only Voldemort or Harry can remove the prophesy from its spot.’

‘So how do we stop the order guarding it?’ Hermione asked, feeling suddenly as though she was working against the good guys here.

‘I have some contacts that may be able to instigate something.’ Grindelwald purred ominously.


	31. Chapter 31

Christmas passed in a flurry of presents and food. Gellert had spent very little time among the festivities, instead spending hours cultivating his new network of contacts. It was evidence to his success that he had received a pleasing array of presents from some of his allies, the Malfoy boy had given him a cursed necklace that forced the wearer to speak only the truth. He didn’t know where the boy had found it, but it would certainly be useful. His own gift to the boy had already been put to good use, judging by the detailed and extensive report that had arrived a couple of days after. The information within had been nothing new, but he was glad that the boy was putting the invisibility cloak to good use.

The Umbridge woman had send him volume 2 of the magical theory book, along with a note waffling about how the ministry liked to encourage excellence in select students. Along with the book had been a small silver badge, shaped like an ‘i’. There was no explanation, but he could guess. Apparently the Malfoy boy had received the same, and he had reported his other Slytherin friends had also received the gift. He suspected that whatever group the witch was creating could only drive another wedge between him and Hermione. Hopefully as she grew the young witch would come to understand what he was doing.

The plan she’d brought to him had been a surprise. He hadn’t expected her to see past her hero worship of Albus so quickly, and although overly complex her plan had held some promise. He twisted his sealing ring off his finger and pressed the metal into the wax, hoping that this letter would begin to put his plan into motion.

Winky waited eagerly to take the letter from him, looking like a new elf in her crisp, smart uniform. It was an old tradition, but one that would certainly catch the elder purebloods’s attention. Back in the days when Gellert had been at large, one would never have initiated in important contact with an owl. He handed the letter to the elf and she curtseyed low, before disappearing with a pop.

The dark wizard changed into appropriate clothing, meant to impress. The embroidered waistcoat was subtle, not covered in the tacky beading that new-money seemed to favour. The velvet robe he had commissioned was lined with fur and embellished only with dragon shaped clasps. He cinched it at the waist with a dragon hide belt and pulled the deep hood over his head, hiding his face in shadow.

Winky reappeared with a pop, handing him a neatly folded letter. He barely glanced at the emerald seal before tearing it open. His contact had thankfully agreed to meet, although the change in location was hardly surprising; Gellert would have done the same.

‘Godric’s Hollow’ He informed the young elf, holding out his hand. Winky took it carefully and they disappeared with a sharp tug in his chest.

Godric’s Hollow was much as he remembered it. Snow covered most of the details but he remembered the cemetery clearly, having spent days exploring it in search of any clues to the Peverell brothers.

Fairy lights twinkled along fences, both real and the muggle imitation. He followed the street, passing the house where that awful muggle boy had lived, the one that used to shout homophobic slurs at him and Albus. Someone else lived there now – either a muggleborn or a half blood family judging by the blend of magical and muggle decorations.

Lights were on at his Tante’s house and he could see movement in the study. His eyes lingered on the darkened Dumbledore house next door. It was owned by muggles now, judging by the reindeer that perched on the fence. They were away, whoever they were. He considered going inside, but eventually decided against it – he didn’t know what remained of the old wizarding wards and it was almost a guarantee that he’d been tuned out after the fight. He tore his eyes away and strode down the street to the ruined house at the end of the row. It hadn’t been a Potter property when he’d been in Godric’s Hollow; there had been rather well-off muggle family living there. The eldest daughter had had something of a fancy for him as an evidently wealthy foreigner. It was something Albus had teased him about mercilessly. Now though, there was little more than a burnt shell of a building. The left gable end still stood almost completely intact, the beams and rafters jutting out into space like fingers of bone, the right gable had half collapsed and a small tree grew out of the mess of jumbled bricks, branches reaching through a shattered window. He vaulted over the gate, enchanted graffiti flaring slightly as his fingers touched a plaque nailed to the wood. A tinny lullaby tinkled away, stuttering slightly with the age of the charm, providing a haunting tune as he manoeuvred over the rubble.

The debris of the Potter’s lives was still scattered where it had fallen; a pot, a shoe, a broken picture frame with the photograph dissolved by years of rain. His feet crunched in the snow as he bent to examine an old book binding. A brick skittered down the pile, landing with a whuff of snow among some brambles. Gellert stood, slowly turning to face the newcomer. The two wizards paused, surveying one another critically.

Platinum blond hair, combed immaculately straight over an embellished jerkin and embroidered leather robes. He carried a snake-headed cane, although it looked purely ornamental. There was no obviously visible wand, although that meant little when there were so many options available for concealed wands.

‘I was surprised to receive your letter.’ Lucius Malfoy drawled, seemingly finding Grindelwald adequate. Gellert was pleased to note the tone; he was being regarded as a respected equal already, which would make his job much easier.

‘I had reason to believe you had become disillusioned with your... master.’ Gellert replied in an equally dry tone.

‘My son.’

‘Your son.’ Gellert confirmed.

‘I have been impressed by his sudden interest in fostering connections.’ The British Lord commented idly.

‘He has an aptitude, no doubt inherited.’ Ah, he missed interacting with the more subtle mind.

‘The Malfoys have always been well connected.’ Lucius wanted an offer. He was aware that Gellert wanted his connections and he wanted to know what Gellert could give him in return. It was a familiar dance.

‘The Grindelwald connections have always been founded on our magical excellence and political ideals.’

‘Magical excellence and political ideals led you to ruin before.’ Ah, now there was a challenge.

‘Ah, but at least I was not a half-blood preaching to pure-bloods. His downfall was a consequence of his own lack of wisdom, his ignorance of the basic principles that we learn as children. Voldemort lost to a child, then after his reincarnation, continued to chase the same prophesy.’ He allowed scorn to colour his words, his lips curling upwards.

‘Yes, I must concede your point. The available options are limited however.’

‘Perhaps, if one is determined to pursue the ideal of pure blood supremacy. Were you not taught as a child that magic is the highest authority? Would magic gift itself to the unworthy? Muggle borns have been chosen by magic to join us, should we scorn those that have been gifted to bolster our numbers? Would it not be better to embrace them, educate them to become a valuable part of society.’ His honeyed tones were as familiar as the words he spoke, his old doctrine sounding new on his younger tongue.

‘I will not follow that muggle loving old fool, Albus Dumbledore.’ The sneer in Malfoy’s voice matched the one Gellert had used when he spoke of Voldemort.

‘I did not suggest that. I am not a follower of Dumbledore, nor do I suggest loving muggles. They are lesser, they are other. I only speak of the value of those that possess magic. I imagine a world where wizards are free, limited only by the strength of their mind and their magic. I imagine a world where we can take our rightful place in society without the hindrance of ‘muggle loving fools’, where all forms of magic are cherished and practiced equally.’ He trailed off, in his experience the human mind would instinctually fill in the blanks, inserting their own desires into the space.

‘Your image is truly wonderful. I wonder how you hope to achieve it where so many have failed before.’

‘I can elaborate, perhaps when we are somewhere warmer and more private. Suffice to say, I have no need for branded followers.’

There was a pause as Lucius considered his options. Gellert allowed his concealed eyes to wander further through the ruins, taking in the muggle appliances that still remained. The Potters must have been a perfect harmony between muggle and magical – the traces of enchantments still remained on the fridge which had fallen against the sink. Tarnished cutlery was scattered among mossy plates in the sink. One could almost picture the evening the attack had happened. Dinner just finished, Lily taking baby Harry to bed, James Potter charming the dishes to wash, interrupted by the door being blown off. He had seen it happen, he had performed it himself.

‘The mark contains a tracking charm. I am powerless should the Dark Lord discover my change in allegiance.’ Malfoy finally announced, breaking the silence.

‘That will not be a problem. I own a property that would perhaps provide a safe place for a portkey, should you desire it.’

‘I must return, before the Dark Lord suspects I am missing.’

Gellert nodded respectfully, exaggerating the movement so that it showed even through the heavy concealment of the hood. Lucius mirrored his movements and the two of them strode off the property. They climbed over the collapsing wall, then with one final nod, Malfoy disappeared. Gellert waited a moment before summoning his elf and disappearing back to his room as well.


	32. Chapter 32

‘Dumbledore wants Snape to teach me Occlumency.’ Harry declared, dropping into his usual armchair in front of the fire.

‘Snape!’ Ron sympathised, looking up from his homework.

‘Apparently Dumbledore thinks Voldemort is possessing my mind or something.’ Harry complained. ‘so I have to have private lessons once per week.’

‘Harry, Occlumency is a really advanced subject and I’ve heard Snape is a master. You’re really very lucky to be learning from him.’ Hermione added, unable to believe that the two boys could be so tied up in their hatred of the teacher that they couldn’t see this fabulous opportunity for what it was. Hermione would have given anything to learn Occlumency.

‘Hermione, its extra lessons with _Snape_. He’ll be lucky to learn anything.’ Reminded Ron and Hermione had to concede the point. Harry and Snape had the ability to wind each other up more than any adult she’d ever seen. Perhaps, if she spoke to Gellert during the next DA meeting he would be able to give her some pointers to pass on.

She shuffled her parchment for ElfAid, no longer focusing on the work. Badge sales were generating a moderate income, mostly among muggleborns but she had yet to persuade anyone who actually owned an elf. She had been perusing books on wizarding genealogy to try and find a potential pureblood candidate but had yet to find a candidate in anything other than the unlikely column.

She gave up. They boys were still moaning about Snape, so she decided to take up the one subject that would quickly distract them. Then her thought were completely derailed as she heard what Harry was telling Ron.

‘... but it wasn’t a complete waste. I asked Cho Chang to Hogsmede on Valentines day.’ Ron gawped at approvingly.

‘Cho Chang? Really? Wow Harry, she’s a year older and super pretty’ Hermione barely restrained a huff of frustration. Boys, it seemed, were the same in both the wizarding and muggle worlds.

‘Oh, Harry. I’ve been thinking...’ She said airily, interrupting the crude comments the boys were making. ‘It would be good to get the true story out don’t you think?’ She looked at Ron for backup and he redhead started nodding, fortunately he didn’t seem too concerned by the change of subject. She had no doubt they would return to it back in the dormitory.

‘Yeah – that’s a great idea Hermione. I can just see the headlines now “the boy who lied”.’ Harry mimed quote marks with his fingers. Hermione forced herself to be patient, her friend was under an unbelievable amount of pressure. It was only understandable that he would snap, even if it wasn’t entirely necessary.

‘Actually, I was thinking we could speak to Luna Lovegood. Get the story published in The Quibbler.’ Harry scoffed and looked to Ron for support.

‘Right, even if the magazine is usually a bunch of tosh, all we need to do is get the story published.’

‘I know a writer who will increase the audience as well; she owes me.’ Hermione added. Harry was beginning to look between them rather desperately.

‘and once it’s published, we could let Umbridge know about it!’ Ron exclaimed and both Hermione and Harry looked at him with surprise. ‘Well, Fred and George always said the best publicity at Hogwarts is getting something banned. ‘ His face flamed as brightly as his hair but Hermione could immediately understand.

‘That’s brilliant, Ron.’ Hermione decided. ‘I’ll organise the meeting now.’ She decided jumping up. Her ElfAid work fell to the side and she only paused to roughly stack it before taking the mason jar that was already shrunk in her bag and hurrying off to the owlery.

Harry’s first lesson in Occlumency was an unparalleled disaster. Not only had he come back knowing exactly where to find the prophesy, but the lesson had clearly had no benefit as Ron informed her the next morning that Harry had been experiencing You-Know-Who’s emotions again.

He was happy, very happy, which she could only hope meant that Grindelwald had enacted the first part of their plan. Unfortunately she was quickly proven wrong at breakfast. Gellert dropped into the seat opposite her, and she looked up in surprise. He hadn’t spoken to her outside of classes since Christmas.

She knew straight away that he didn’t have good news; his expression was grave and he held a tightly rolled daily prophet in one hand.

‘I had hoped that you might have enacted the first stage of our plan.’ Hermione sighed and the dark wizard grimaced.

‘Unfortunately not.’ He unrolled the paper in front of her and Hermione froze. A middle aged wizard took up most of the page, white hair almost glowing in the grainy black and white photo. She didn’t have to see the mismatched eyes to know it was Grindelwald. The haughty expression and arrogant stance were unmistakable, despite the difference in age and build. He was wider, heavier set and wearing an old fashioned suit. She noticed suddenly the subtle changes he had made overnight to the way he wore his uniform to differentiate from the photo. He had done up his shirt the whole way, actually tying his tie for once and not wearing the waistcoat he usually had underneath his robes.

‘Has anyone recognised you?’ She demanded, worry coursing through her.

‘No, I’ve got a notice-me-not charm up.’ He dismissed with a casual wave of his hand. True enough, people’s eyes just seemed to drift past them as if they were not there. Her eyes were drawn back to the paper as he tapped one of the ten smaller images surrounding his. Nine wizards and a witch, all purebloods by the captions beneath them and all convicted of a crime.

Antonin Dolohov seemed to be glaring directly at her out of the paper, she could imagine those cold eyes calculating the best way to hurt her. He had been convicted of the murder of the Prewetts. Mulciber could have been handsome, if one missed the deranged, manic look in his eyes. She shivered and her eyes drifted to the heading, dwarfed by the pictures that dominated the page.

“Dark Wizard at large: Grindelwald orchestrates mass breakout from Azkaban. _cont p2._ ” She didn’t need to read page two, it wasn’t hard to imagine what it said.

‘Dumbledore had already given his opinion. A glowing argument in my defence...’ Gellert moaned, ‘so he’d been labelled one of my supporters and they’ve taken his order of merlin.’

‘Can they even do that?’ Hermione asked in dismay. She couldn’t believe Dumbledore was so bad at working the media, perhaps if she hadn’t been reading up on Grindelwald’s propaganda before Harry’s interview, she would never have noticed.

‘They have. Either way it makes his position as headmaster very precarious.’ Hermione found herself biting her lip as she tried to force her mind through all the ramifications. It was more important than ever to get something out about their side of the story, but would it be advisable to mention this latest fiasco or should they disassociate themselves from Dumbledore? The question would almost certainly come up. Perhaps she should ask Gellert for his opinion... but first...

‘Gellert, could you please give Harry some pointers in Occlumency? Only, he’s having lessons with Snape and I don’t think they’re getting him anywhere.’

She went pink  under Gellert’s stare. Suddenly she felt very foolish for asking and she opened her mouth to take back her request when he abruptly nodded and stood, striding up to the staff table. His notice-me-not charm must have been incredibly powerful because nobody blinked an eye as he engaged in an intense conversation with Professor Dumbledore. From the dumbfounded expressions of the nearby faculty, she could guess that Gellert was giving Professor Dumbledore the scolding of his life.

Umbridge seemed to be under the thrall of the charm, but she was still glaring intently between her plate and Harry, who had just entered the hall. She waved him over, and he spotted her, tugging Ron to the seat Gellert had just left. She grimly pushed the paper over to them, interrupting Ron as he reached for the bacon.

Neither boy seemed to recognise Grindelwald’s photo, although she could see them doing double-takes when they read the headline. For a minute there was silence as they scanned the names below each image. Ron grew paler and paler, obviously recognising the names. Harry gravely tapped the image of the witch, she was leaning against her frame, inspecting her nails with heavily lidded eyes.

She read the caption underneath – “Bellatrix Lestrange, torture of Alice and Frank Longbottom.”

‘Is Neville okay?’ She asked and the two boys shared a look. They didn’t know. Gormless boys. ‘I’ll make sure he knows.’ She decided, abandoning her toast regretfully. It would be better for him to find out away from all these people.


	33. Chapter 33

It almost slipped his notice, so caught up was he in his own plans and problems. His connections were coming along swimmingly, seeing as all of them knew the true culprit behind the Azkaban breakout. There had been a shadow of doubt among many that his movement would be finished before it even got started again, but those murmurings seemed to have remained mostly background. Hopefully those whisperers would be silenced in a couple of months when he enacted his plan... which he did need to begin putting into action. There were several pawns to move into position before that and he should eliminate a couple of variables. Teaching the Potter boy occlumency would become a hindrance in the long run...

The bigger issue though, or at least the more immediate one, the one that he kept getting side tracked from was one that he had been raised by an overheard conversation in the corridor. The Weasley girl had been speaking to Dean and mentioned that Potter was taking some Chang girl to Hogsmeade, he’d thought nothing of it until he’d heard Weasley being cajoled into quiddich training by the bossy captain.

Perhaps times had changed since Gellert was of their age, perhaps it was because he was a product of an older, more polite time but he found the idea of her not being escorted to the village terrible. In fact, it had actually been such an outrageous concept that he hadn’t even realised it would happen. It had taken several weeks for the obvious consequences of both her friends having other obligations to sink in.

So that is how he found himself dressed in his smart fur cloak, waiting in the common room long past the time when he usually would have already left to review the information Winky had collected the previous day. Harry and Ron emerged from the dormitory about half an hour after him, Harry looking rather pale and Ron seemingly trying to comfort him. Both boys completely ignored him, clambering through the portrait just as Hermione finally emerged from the girl’s dormitory.

He stood quickly, striding across the room to her. She startled when she noticed him but cocked her head curiously when he stopped in front of her. For a moment he was lost for words, an unfamiliar chill trickling like cracked egg inside his chest.

‘It came to my attention that you would be going to Hogsmeade unaccompanied.’ He began, wondering whether it was still expected that a man would bow at this point. Bowing seemed to have gone out of fashion, but surely asking to escort a lady... then again, he wasn’t asking to escort her, he was offering which made a difference in the etiquette, particularly when bowing had become so uncommon. He seemed to have hesitated too long, because Hermione gave an awkward giggle.

‘Are you inviting me to Hogsmeade with you?’ She asked through her giggles. Relief washed away that cold feeling, then that relief turned sour as he realised she was waiting for an answer.

‘Well yes, I just couldn’t see a young lady go unaccompanied on Valentine’s day.’ He managed, brushing his fingers across the hilt of his wand, hidden up his sleeve. A rose, she would like roses.

He whipped to tulip out and presented it to her.

He didn’t know whether she was more shocked than him. His magic was never off like that.

Thankfully, she seemed more pleasantly surprised and with a delicate blush took the tulip from him. She didn’t seem to realise how flustered he was, he was never flustered; he was a 115 year old war veteran.

He held out his arm like he had done when they first met, escorting her through the portrait and down to the breakfast hall. The persistent flobberworm in his stomach seemed to fade as he pulled out the bench for her and filled her a cup of tea. He barely noticed the suspicious glares Potter and Weasley were shooting him over their porridge. Actually, he did notice them but he was more interested in the letters both him and Hermione had both received.

He quickly took note of the familiar emerald seal, having already exchanged frequent correspondence with its owner, both the current one and the one two previous. He used his butter knife to slice through the wax and unfolded the letter. It was flowery as their correspondence always was, addressed to him under his alias of Gellert Abernathy as though he were a friend of Draco’s. It contained the usual platitudes which hid the real information, hidden to all but the “Slytherin” mind that was already aware of their plans.

Lucius Malfoy did not like to be kept waiting, so he conjured a clean piece of parchment (doing the same for Hermione when she asked for one too so that she could reply to her letter.) and quickly wrote his response. Yes, he was doing well in his lessons (the plans were progressing nicely.) He would be very interested in the books Lucius had found, could he please send the first volume in the post (put the first part of the plan in motion.) Did Narcissa enjoy her Wednesday tea (did she hear anything of interest from her connections among the society wives). He beefed it out with a couple of comments about how Draco was doing, he offered condolences and concerns about their continued safety after the escape of Narcissa’s deranged cousin (fishing for information) and mentioned that he would be able to exchange more detailed letters when he had the time, perhaps next week. (he was free to meet in person at some point next week).

He sealed the letter with a blank seal; his own would have raised far too much suspicion if anyone saw it. Instead, he used an anti-tampering charm before giving the letter to the waiting owl. Hermione too was just finishing up her letter and he cast a regretful look as his bacon as he stood to accompany her to the owlery. Malfoy’s owl had helped itself to the best bits, leaving only rind.

He refrained from asking who she had been writing to, he couldn’t exactly tell her who he had been talking to.

Today was not a day for conspiracies, plans and wars. Today was for a woman to be treated like a princess, a day for love and compassion and all those happy things that Albus liked to talk about that Gellert knew would bring back that inquisitive, brilliant young girl he had dared to call a friend before their argument. He was determined to put up his best performance ever when it came to those fuzzy feelings and give Hermione a day as a normal young woman, spending a normal day out of school.

They were checked out by the grumpy caretaker and the climbed aboard one of the thestral drawn carriages. They were the first inside and had to wait for a moment, however when it became clear that nobody would be joining them soon, the carriage moved off with just them aboard.

There was an awkward silence.

‘Hagrid gave us a lesson on thestrals.’ She said into the silence, peering over his shoulder through the window at what she would see as an empty space. He’d heard about this but was happy to take up the thread of conversation.

‘I had heard. I assume that you can’t see them?’ He turned and looked instinctually. The single thestral harnessed to the carriage tossed its head as though it knew it was being talked about. Perhaps it did, he didn’t make a habit of talking to the world’s expert on magical beasts.

‘I can’t. It seems unlikely that I will never be able to though.’ She was dwelling on the war again, so he made a conscious effort to change the subject. So he launched into the story of his daring escape from the American prison. His own propaganda made him seem like a deranged maniac who confidently perched on the roof of a carriage flying through a storm, controlling the lightning with his wand.

The truth was close, but he had spent significantly more time hanging on for dear life than swinging around corners. There had been a brief moment for example where he had actually been thrown from the carriage in an attempt to avoid a blast from a following auror. Luckily he had fallen forwards and it was only the trailing hoof of one of the thestrals that had flicked him backwards enough to grab a wheel. The public story had completely deleted the part where he spent several minutes desperately clinging to the wheel as he tried to muster enough upper body strength to reach up to the undercarriage.

It was not perhaps a story for a regular day away from school but it kept them entertained until they arrived in Hogsmeade.

He helped her down from the carriage and escorted her first to honeydukes, because he knew it was appropriate to buy girls chocolates on Valentine’s day. They spent a while in the sweet shop, then skipped the rowdy joke shop and visited a parchment shop to buy new quills.

They spent a while in the book shop, he perused the titles with little interest but did purchase a token book on advanced ancient runes. Hermione chose a couple and he insisted on paying for them. He waived her protests and then cajoled the clerk into getting the majority delivered up to the castle so that they didn’t have to carry them.

She’d told him that she had an appointment at the Three Broomsticks, so they meandered through the slushy street on their way to the pub. The conversation flowed smoothly from homework to advanced arithmetic, and once again Gellert found himself wondering at the girl who was only half way through her education yet still managed to make points that were both interesting and even more surprisingly, completely novel to him.

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron before the rush and Gellert looked around the famous building with more than a little interest. It was darker than he had imagined, although nowhere near as dark as the Hog’s Head. The room was busy, although Hermione has assured him it would get busier as they got closer to lunch and the noise was just at the level of being comfortable. They walked down an aisle of worn floorboards past large wooden tables and a merry, crackling fire. The bartender waited behind a well loved bar – Rosmerta was admired by every boy in the dormitory with generous curves. The witch seemed only too happy to take advantage of the patron’s opinions, dressed in a saucy robe that laced tightly from her waist and made her bust spill over the top. She chatted with the customers as she poured butterbeer for them and once again Gellert insisted on paying as they made their way to a table in the corner.

There was silence for a few moments as they both sipped on their butterbeer.

‘Why do you do this?’ Hermione asked into the silence. He had no idea what she was talking about so he just looked blankly at her. ‘All this I mean?’ She gestured vaguely around them at the pub. He could only assume she meant the morning in general.

‘In my day... it’s difficult to explain... we would never let a lady go alone on Valentine’s day.’ Gellert answered but Hermione still seemed unsatisfied.

‘No, I mean... I spoke to Dumbledore... he said you’re not like us, that you paid a price for your sight.’

‘I was born with the sight. I didn’t pay any price.’ He scowled. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what Albus had told her and if he had recounted the story of how thoroughly he had played the British wizards emotions, she would never come to trust him and all his efforts would be wasted.

‘Well, he said you’re a bit like You-Know-Who, that you don’t feel love or compassion.’ She elaborated. It felt like ice was creeping through his veins, so cold that it burned. All that he could think was how much he hated Albus for ruining this connection he had just begun to repair.

‘In essence.’ Was all he said.

‘So why do you pretend?’

The question caught him by surprise. He had expected accusation, perhaps an argument, at least anger for stringing her along. He took a deep breath before answering.

‘It’s not a simple as Albus makes it out to be.’ He finally managed. ‘I don’t know the situation with Riddle but my own is rather fluid.’ Hermione deserved an explanation if nothing else, perhaps this situation could still be salvaged. He could lie, tell her that Albus was wrong, but Hermione was too intelligent. She would find out eventually and the rift would become irreparable. For now the truth was better.

‘I do not form meaningful connections, I never loved my parents, nor did I have any true friends. Perhaps if I had that ability I could develop empathy; I have never lost someone I care about, I have never cared about someone enough to be concerned when they are injured or upset.’ He rested his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on his thumb and his forefingers covering his nose. Hermione was staring intently at the table, hopefully considering what he had told her. ‘I understand the emotion, perhaps better than many who have experienced it. Riddle discounts its existence entirely, which is foolish. Love is a powerful magic.’

‘So why do you pretend? All this?’ The witch asked, frustration leaking into her tone. Without seeing her face he couldn’t judge her opinion, her hair formed an almost solid shield infront of her bowed face.

‘Usually? Because people wouldn’t understand, they make a joke and I must laugh, someone dies and I must mourn because that is what society expects. It became habit to mirror the people around me. Today? I have already answered that. I didn’t want you to be unaccompanied on Valentines. I would hardly offer to accompany you, then scorn you for the day.’ Hermione had looked up but her face was frustratingly unreadable.

‘I think I understand.’ He got the sense she wasn’t talking about only the topic they had been talking about just then. She gathered herself, checking her watch and finishing her butterbeer. She offered him a weak smile.

‘You do?’ He confirmed. The flobberworm was back.

‘Yes, I think so. I am meeting someone though, a reporter. She should be here in a few minutes; any last minute advice?’ She asked and he forced himself to relax, ignoring the flipping of the flobberworm as they settled back into a stilted conversation.


	34. Chapter 34

Albus stood in his office, staring down at the students departing for Hogsmeade. Two in particular, departing late. Perhaps they had been on some errand or other after breakfast because they had been among the first to leave. He watched as Gellert opened the door and helped Miss Granger climb in. He couldn’t tell from here if they were talking, but he could hardly expect otherwise. Grindelwald was far to skilled a wizard to risk casting an eavesdropping charm.

The carriage waited for a few moments to see if any other students appeared. When they didn’t it whisked off to Hogsmeade, carrying the two subjects of Albus’ interest away.

He turned back to his desk which was for once rather empty of paperwork. As he took a seat in the chair, he pushed aside the latest educational decree and instead pulled out a folder from the bottom drawer of his desk. It had a blue tab in the corner, which meant “Grindelwald” in his filing system.

Inside the folder, was a stack of papers. He spread them out and tapped one with his old-new wand. As usual, the magic felt almost unfamiliar as it spread through the conduit and into the paper, revealing the words that were scrawled over each page.

He’d added nothing to the list since Christmas – when he’d found out Gellert was in rather frequent contact with Lucius Malfoy. Albus had no idea when, where or even how he’d managed to sway the dedicated Lord. Perhaps he hadn’t.

He hadn’t had this disadvantage last time; the same disadvantage that the rest of the world had struggled with when Gellert was first at large. Back then he had known exactly what Grindelwald had been trying to achieve and had even been part of the preliminary planning. Now, he truly had no idea.

He’d witnessed first-hand the relationship between Hermione and Gellert, and had wondered if perhaps the dark wizard had genuinely come to call her his friend. He seemed to have little interest in Harry beyond his friendship with Hermione, which disproved the unfortunate theory that he was using her to get to the Boy-Who-Lived. Nor had Grindelwald made any attempt to get to the cloak, despite seemingly being aware of its presence.

His chest ached with a long faded pain as he considered the young witch achieving that which he had so avidly desired at her age. He found himself wondering if he had done anything right, what quality did she have that he did not? Was it solely her gender? She was as intelligent as he had been then, perhaps a little wiser and without seeing her pushed it was difficult to tell how powerful she was exactly. Perhaps it was her gender, maybe that she was muggleborn? It hadn’t been difficult to learn what Gellert had been up to once he had a location to search. The dark wizard had been living in an almost muggle home, and according to the neighbours spent much of his time over at the Granger’s house.

Grindelwald in a muggle home. He almost couldn’t believe it.

Yet all of this gave no clue as to what he was up to _now_. His frequent contact with Lucius Malfoy was concerning to say the least, even more concerning was that he had employed Crouch’s old elf. That opened up a world of possibilities for the dark wizard and made tracking him very difficulty. Albus was aware that he had been leaving the grounds with reasonable regularity, off on who knows what mission.

The vow bound him to help Albus, so whatever he was doing couldn’t be directly against his efforts. At least Gellert did seem to be rather free with his advice; the scolding he’d been given in the middle of the great hall at breakfast a couple of weeks ago had been embarrassing to say the least. Once the dark wizard had laid out the consequences of his actions in short, clipped words, as though he were talking to a child, it had been a rather blatant mistake. He never had been good at chess, although backgammon used many of the same principles so perhaps that wasn’t the issue.

An owl fluttered through the window, alighting on his desk. He took the letter from it with a sigh – Kingsley’s owl never brought good news these days.

“Albus,

One of your unfortunate brother’s lot seems to have told my uncle about the mischief we got up to at the party. Perhaps we should call off the prank for a while?

Kingsley.”

All code words – his unfortunate brother was Voldemort, Kingsley’s uncle was the Minister and in this case the remainder of the message was quite clear. The ministry had become aware of the order had guarding the prophesy and had somehow made it impossible for them to continue the mission. He would have no choice but to withdraw and hope that the unspeakables were up to the challenge of keeping it safe. Prophesies were power, Gellert had taught him that and it wasn’t a lesson he would soon forget.

This war was already beginning to go as well as the last one; Lupin had reported that every werewolf pack he had visited so far had already joined Voldmort or had no interest in fighting either way, Hagrid’s mission to the giants had been an utter failure. Not to mention the brother the half-giant had brought home who, should he ever be discovered, would leave Albus in an even more precarious position than he already was. With this latest collapse, the only real assets he still had were Severus and Harry.

So the question of whether he risked losing Harry gained all the more importance. Miss Granger’s influence on the boy was far greater than his own, so should Hermione fall victim to Gellert’s manipulations.... perhaps she needed a little extra coaching; occlumency in the least and he should perhaps consider letting the young witch in on a few more secrets. He forced himself to remember that she was intelligent enough to make her own decisions, so long as she was given all the tools to remain independent when she made them. He needed to ensure that she also had his side of the story to work with, so that she was not as easily taken in by Gellert’s silver tongue as he had been.

Yes, occlumency and some truths.


	35. Chapter 35

He looked at the magazine in front of him in disbelief. He stood in front of the great hall, staring up at the newest addition to the educational decrees on the wall, clutching the shiny paper and struggling to hold in a laugh. He had absolutely no idea how they had managed to pull all this off and he doubted they even realised how well they had played their hands.

Then again, the coldly calculating stare Hermione had worn when she “sheepishly” passed Umbridge their copy of the Quibbler at breakfast had been too intentional for this to be accidental. Merlin, it seemed a group of teenagers had better political savvy than most adults. In getting the interview banned, they had practically forced the ministry to declare that it was worth reading and as such even Lucius Malfoy seemed to have read a copy  (which judging by the article which followed Harry’s, how would not have been seen dead with otherwise).

Draco was fuming, as were all his Slytherin friends, so he’d actually had to hold an emergency meeting of the ‘inquisitorial squad’ as Umbridge had begun to call them. The group had yet to become official, but they had been given special permission to meet in the Defence classroom whenever they wanted to “make connections that might prove invaluable in a ministry career.”

It had taken a lot to persuade the group that their position in the ministry’s eyes was more important than their family honour and he’d had to remind them several times that they would just be helping Potter if they tried to jinx him.

He suppressed another laugh before returning the magazine to his bag and striding down between the tables and dropping down next to Hermione.

‘Brilliant, Hermione. Half the country must have read it by now.’

He brushed her mind, the familiar action almost soothing as he perused her surface feelings, only to come up against weak shields. He looked down quickly at his eggs and bacon to hide the way his expression suddenly faltered. Someone had been teaching her Occlumency, someone very good at it. That in and of itself was not a problem, although it made it more difficult to navigate this friendship he was attempting to foster when he didn’t know how she was responding to his actions. He could hardly complain that she was developing the additional protection. What was more concerning was who could be teaching her. There were only two options – Snape had proving himself an incompetent teacher when it came to Potter which was common for natural occlumens. That left Albus.

What was the old coot playing at?

It struck him suddenly that it was meant to be against him. Albus was training her to be able to fight him, he was attempting to turn her against him with probably not untrue stories about his past. There was nothing he could do to stop that messy, bloody history from catching up with him. He could hardly lie when it was all so well documented, he couldn’t claim any defence.

Feeling suddenly sick he staggered to his feet with as much grace as he could muster. Hermione looked at him in concern but he ignored her, rushing from the hall. He needed privacy, he needed to get up to the room of requirement. Dizziness washed through him and the world spun. He wouldn’t make the room. He stumbled, the weight of his fall pushing the massive door open. The slight resistance gave him time to recover and he staggered outside, somehow remaining upright down the stairs.

He didn’t remember much of the journey across the bridge, just close ups of smoothed wood as he clutched it to remain upright. He made it across, there was a tree overlooking the lake but better, the hanging branches would conceal him from anyone who came looking. He pushed the branches aside, cutting his hand as he clutched a vine for support, shredding the leaves from the willowy stem as he fell to his knees.

He crawled the last bit as pain seared through his body, seeking the slight added refuge of being behind the tree trunk. Finally he could collapse against the earth, where he panted heavily as spots danced in front of his vision. The pain was getting worse, he had no idea what was happening to him. His teeth ached as he clamped down hard to keep from shouting, his back arched, roots scraping his back as he writhed on the floor.

The pain subsided and he became aware of a voice. Hermione’s voice. She had followed him. She hated him now that Albus had told her the truth. She wouldn’t let him in again. Agony burned through his chest again, hot like a branding iron and he forced himself not to cry out. He was Gellert Grindelwald, the greatest dark wizard in history. He would not be beaten by this.

When the pain faded again Hermione was gone. He was unsurprised but relieved all the same. A slight tremor sent his head smashing backwards into something soft. A cloak he realised, from the colour. Hermione had left it for him. She was a kind creature, to leave such comfort for a monster. A monster who had killed people like her parents, who had lead their wholesale slaughter. Pain wracked his body again and he forgot the cloak beneath his head as his world exploded in black and yellow.

A cool hand rested on his head, another touched his shoulder, his chest. He managed a shuddering breath. There were voices, a male and a female but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He couldn’t have a student find him like this, he had to do something. His magic coiled without his intent, lashing out like a whip at the voices.

A sharp cry of pain and a grunt of effort.

Hopefully they were gone.

They weren’t.

Magic brushed over him like a cool breeze, the pain eased and he managed to open his eyes. The magic must have been Albus’. He had his wand out and leaned over Gellert, muttering indistinct incantations. The hand wasn’t his though. His eyes rolled up; the hand was Hermione’s. A brutal mark slashed across her cheek, her bottom lip trembled as she fought to keep her silvery eyes from releasing a tear. That had been him. He’d hurt her.

Pain seared through him again, unexpected, hot and cold. He cried out, drowning out the soothing words she mumbled. Albus was talking again but he couldn’t understand him. He needed something, anything to hold to brace against the pain. His magic flailed; he mustn’t hurt Hermione. He hoped Albus would stay, or take Hermione with him. She needed to be safe.

That fire burned through him again. Hermione was talking, murmuring soothing words. He focused on that. Her words and keeping her safe.


	36. Chapter 36

She had been sitting there for hours, her back against the tree and Gellert’s head cushioned on her crossed legs. Her bum hurt, her back hurt and the cut on her face throbbed despite the healing charm Professor Dumbledore had used. Grindelwald had finally fallen still about an hour ago, perhaps sleeping off the agony.

Remorse. That’s what Dumbledore had diagnosed it as. Not true, complete remorse but the first stage of it. Only he would be able to tell them what, at that seemingly innocent breakfast had triggered it and the chances were he never would. That he had managed to feel it at all was incredible, yet terrible. To have seen someone in so much pain... Hermione hoped to never witness it again.

She had followed him when he left, the slightly panicked look in his eyes raising her alarm. She’d caught up just as the willow fell closed behind him, blood smeared on the branches. She had followed the muggle first aid training for a seizure, packing her robe beneath his head and running for Professor Dumbledore.

Then she’d sat here, missing lessons, for hours on end, gently stroking Gellert’s hair, letting him grip desperately onto her arm as his back arched and pained whimpers escaped him. She held the silencing charm around the willow, a warming charm closer to them, the snow still melting over the ground enough of a deterrent to curious students during break to keep the usually popular space empty.

It would be lunch in a couple of minutes, she hoped Dumbledore would come again. Would she even get lunch? Her stomach growled loudly and she shifted uncomfortably, feeling awful for complaining about her hunger when Gellert had just been through so much worse.

True remorse; the Headmaster had told her it was a fracture in his soul repairing itself. An incredible thing to witness, rare and almost impossible to achieve, what Gellert was going through was the first stage of such a thing. She didn’t want Gellert to feel such remorse if this had been the first stage, she could only imagine the rest. It was a selfish thought; she was by no means unaware of his crimes having studied them briefly in class. She knew there were entire books on the subject, monuments to his victims, headline after headline of his attacks across the world. Yet she found herself unable to wish the pain on him.

She shuffled again, trying to stop a root digging in to her coccyx. Gellert moaned, her eyes jumping to his as they flickered open.

‘Hermione?’ He asked uncertainly and she smiled down at him.

‘Yes, are you alright?’

‘Are you?’ He asked insistently, sitting up with obvious effort. He reached out, and she winced as he touched the cut on her cheek.

‘Dumbledore said your soul was beginning to heal.’ She told him, to take attention off the injury. He froze, looking at her in disbelief. ‘You dropped this over there.’ She told him, lifting his strange wand from the safe place she’d left it atop her bag. She’d spent a while looking at it while he was unconscious – it was a very powerful wand, she could feel it probing her magic almost like a living thing; ancient and terrible, a wand that had committed many crimes and performed the darkest of magic. The design was eerie, looking like a long finger bone, with the pale knuckles in the wood. She wanted nothing more than to snap it and hide the pieces where they would never be found.

Gellert took it back from her, and then touched the tip to the cut that had scabbed on his hand, healing it into yet another scar, layered atop the many already there. Then he did the same to the cut on her cheek and she fidgeted as it itched under his spell.

‘How long?’ He asked, pulling himself to his feet far sooner than she would have recommended. She jumped up, letting grab her shoulder as he swayed.

‘A couple of hours, 4 or so.’ She answered, he winced, a hand flying to his chest and she almost went to catch him. The wizard just winced and forced himself to stand fully, taking a first step cautiously, wavering, then another more confidently. She realised suddenly that he was murmuring lowly, casting a string of enchantments under his breath whose purpose she could only guess. Finally he waved his wand over her and a flurry of his metallic, volcanic scented magic rearranged her hair and robes into a semblance of neatness. The same for himself and his robes were neatly repaired and the mud mysteriously vanished. He strode out into the grounds.

Hermione hurried after him, handing him his bag as he strode confidently towards the castle. It was very impressive, she decided as she hurried to keep up with him, how less than five minutes after he regained consciousness, he looked immaculate and was striding away on some mission. His robes even had a crease down the sleeve.

She followed him through the deserted halls, their footsteps ringing on the stone. Usually she would have been quieter...

Ah, that’s why.

Umbridge stepped out in front of them, a toad like grin spreading across her face as she saw who was coming.

‘Mr. Abernathy!’ She giggled, ‘What has Miss. Granger done now?’

Gellert didn’t even pause, drawing his wand and confounding her. The spell was so powerful it knocked her backwards, her body hitting the wall with a thud. Hermione gasped, hurrying to catch up.

‘Gellert, we just attacked a teacher!’ She gasped. He looked at her mildly.

‘And? Ah yes, obliviate.’ He flicked the wand in the direction of the collapsed teacher. Hermione only had time to gape like a fish before he was striding off again. She looked briefly at the crumpled form before quickly hurrying after Grindelwald again.

They arrived at Dumbledore’s office just as the bell rang for lunch. As they spiralled upwards on the staircase, the corridors filled with people.

Gellert didn’t knock. He just threw the door open and strode inside. Dumbledore was meeting with someone dressed in the smart robes of a ministry official. Gellert waved his wand and the official collapsed where he stood. Professor Dumbledore flicked his hand and an armchair scooted across the room the catch the man before he could hit the hard floor.

‘You’ve recovered. Excellent.’ Dumbledore said. ‘Shall I draw you up a chair.’

For a moment it looked like Gellert would refuse, but he seemed to relent and Dumbledore swished his wand. Two plump armchairs appeared out of thin air and Gellert dropped into one, although he didn’t relax. Dumbledore stood and glided around the desk. Hermione stopped as he lifted her chin, inspecting the cut.

‘You’ve done a good job healing it.’ He commented as an aside to Grindelwald.

‘Would I do anything else?’ He sneered in response and Dumbledore sighed.

The headmaster looked older than she had ever realised and he seemed to almost deflate as he looked Grindelwald over.

‘You’re experiencing remorse.’ Dumbledore finally commented.

‘Unintentionally.’ The dark wizard sneered. There was an animosity there, she realised, one that seemed to fox her as much as Dumbledore.

‘Do you know what triggered it?’

‘Obviously.’ He snapped. ‘What are you teaching her in your private lessons?’

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t realised Gellert was unaware of the lessons – or lesson. She’d only had one, and it had been an incredible experience. Professor Dumbledore was a genius and he’d gently guided her through the first steps of Occlumency, all while chatting about Abbot’s law of summoning and how it interacted with warding.

‘Hermione?’ Dumbledore passed the batten to her. She swallowed under the glare Gellert turned on her.

‘We... er... we talked about the interaction between Abbot’s law of summoning and warding.’ She managed, glancing up at Dumbledore for support. He nodded encouragingly. ‘We also did a bit of occlumency. He wants me to be able to give Harry some pointers.’ She trailed off uncertainly.

Gellert’s glare had softened slightly but the burn in those mismatched eyes was still something she never wanted directed at her again.

‘Why don’t you show him what you learned?’ the Headmaster proposed and Hermione was relieved to see Gellert’s gaze snap away from her. ‘I believe you’re rather an expert on Abbot’s interaction with warding. There might be something you can add to the conversation.’

‘I am lucky.’ He said sharply.

‘Very lucky indeed, does she know the story?’ Hermione looked between the two powerful wizards, unsure exactly how her lessons and their discussions had become a point of contest between them.

‘Have you told her?’ There was a subtle emphasis on the “you” that sounded somewhat accusatory. Were they fighting over who told her stories? Or, Hermione realised, were they fighting over whether she heard the stories at all.

‘I have done a little research, perhaps it is a story I already know?’ She said tentatively. Both wizards jerked towards her as though they had forgotten she was there.

‘Fine. Most wards are tuned to let non-magical items through, otherwise things like snow, rain and wind would weaken it like a genuine assault. Likewise, most wards let magic out so that those inside can defend themselves. I summoned a plane, released it before it crossed the wards and it impacted on the ward stone of the castle, collapsing the wards.’ Gellert snapped at her, then he turned to Dumbledore. ‘happy?’

‘I think you might find Miss Granger a little more aware than you had previously anticipated.’ Dumbledore said mildly.

‘I’ll teach her.’ The dark wizard finally said and Dumbledore steepled his fingers.

‘If you must. I rather thought she might like to know what she’s getting in to from an unbiased party.’

‘You are far from unbiased.’

‘There are no unbiased parties where you are concerned.’ Both wizards had risen, shouting at each other across the desk. Hermione had never heard of Professor Dumbledore losing his calm before but it seemed Gellert riled him in a way nothing else could. ‘You are a criminal, a monster, a dark wizard. The girl must know who you are or would you trick her like you did me.’

‘I did no such thing. You followed me willingly!’

‘I never knew who you were, what you had already done, if I had I would never have made that choice.’ Dumbledore was anger to Gellert’s scorn, heat to Grindelwald’s fire, it was easy to understand how the Gryffindor could believe that Gellert had no emotions. It wouldn’t be long now before one of them drew her wand, over her, for a reason she still didn’t truly understand.

‘Excuse me?’ She asked, interrupting the headmaster. ‘Would you ask me what I think?’

The glare levelled at her from both directions was like standing between two nuclear warheads.

‘I appreciate the lessons, perhaps you could both teach me and perhaps I could decide on a story each time, you are right Professor, it is very important to understand both sides of the story, which I hope you can appreciate Gellert.’

Both wizards seemed to consider the possibility, before Albus sighed in resignation.

‘Perhaps we might be able to suggest one for you to hear, in truth and in full. There are many that are not easy to find.’

‘Does that suit you, Gellert?’ she demanded, hands on hips and feeling awfully like Mrs. Weasley.

‘Very well. Monday at six.’

What followed was a negotiation of times and dates that she was certain they made more difficult just to spite one another. For two wizards over 110, they acted awfully like children.


	37. Chapter 37

Gellert had not attended a DA meeting since they began to learn Patronuses; a subject which he doubted he could ever learn. (Nor would he need to. His natural darkness made him immune to the effects of most dark creatures and for those that it didn’t, fiendfyre would suffice.) He had however insisted that Albus include it in Hermione’s private lessons. Hermione’s otter was wonderful to be near as it gambolled around; it seemed very interested in him and played constantly, he basked in its glow. Albus’ phoenix, to the contrary felt much more malevolent, as though it was considering whether he was dark enough to be driven away.

Their story telling had been surprisingly painless, although he suspected that was Hermione’s engineering. Even Dumbledore had struggled to find too many horrific truths to reveal.

He was called to Umbridge’s office by an urgent owl one evening. He knew as soon as he entered that it was about the DA. The ministry witch was almost bouncing on her toes, a black haired Ravenclaw girl sobbed into her hands. He could see the tops of words on her forehead, spelled out in pimples. That was almost certainly Hermione’s handiwork, with her particular brand of non-malicious magic. The Slytherins were already waiting, huddled with excitement that almost rivalled Umbridge’s. He had to warn them.

‘The minister will be here with the aurors any minute to make sure Dumbledore can’t get away. I want Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Abernathy on the way to the Gryffindor common room; we must catch Mr. Potter!’ Umbridge continued to hand out orders to her “inquisitorial squad”. Perhaps is he got a minute he could summon Winky, but that would be giving away one of his assets, but perhaps there was another option.

He used the oldest trick in the book, claiming he needed the toilet. Umbridge let him go, telling him to hurry to his position as soon as he was done. He nodded and left, only getting as far as the next corridor before calling for Dobby.

The elf only appeared when he said, to the empty corridor, that Harry Potter was in danger.

Dobby was skinny, even for an elf and as Harry had described him, he wore an odd assortment of clothing. His jacket looked like a fancy dress British soldier’s with big gold epaulettes over a pair of Hawaiian swimming trunks that came down to his ankles.

‘Harry Potter is in danger?’ The elf asked, looking up at him with big eyes.

‘Yes. He’s in the room of requirement. Tell him she’s coming.’ He instructed the elf whose eyes immediately filled with tears.

‘Dobby cannot sir, Dobby had been ordered by her not to say.’ Its lip began to wobble and Gellert spun back from where he had already been striding away.

‘Are you a free elf or not?’ He snapped. For a moment Dobby seem shocked, then realisation glowed in its eyes.

‘Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby will save Harry Potter!’ The elf disappeared with a pop and Gellert rolled his eyes, hurrying up to the corridor where he had been told to wait.

He knew Dobby had achieved his mission when he heard a thunder of footsteps on the stairway, Umbridge’s squealing from downstairs let him know that Dobby had reached the meeting in time. The ministry would struggle to catch anyone now. He reached the corridor first and slipped into an alcove as students poured past him. He searched frantically for Hermione but it looked like she was going to be one of the last to leave.

He saw her, in the middle of the bunch, rushing down to the library followed by a gaggle of Hufflepuffs. The Ravenclaws should be able to make their commonroom, the Gryffindors however – he heard Malfoy’s triumphant whoop, followed by a shrill call that he had caught Potter.

It seemed Dobby had told the DA who had told him to warn them because Harry approached him in the Dormitory that night to thank him. He nodded, accepting the boy’s thanks silently, then tapped the little silver badge pinned to his robes above the prefect badge.

‘I’d been working to get into Umbridge’s good graces for a while.’ He said. The Boy-Who-Lived nodded in acceptance.

‘Was it you who got the quiddich team playing again?’

‘I believe she did it in an effort to cultivate me. I think she sees me as a victim of Dumbledore’s neglect.’ He almost laughed, but he couldn’t complain. It was too useful to now be in a position of power within the school.

‘Dumbledore’s gone.’ Harry finally said into the silence. Grindelwald nodded.

‘He’s in Wales, searching for something to help us defeat Voldemort.’ Albus’ patronus had been waiting for him when he got back to the dorm. Albus had begged him to keep his students safe and to continue researching horcruxes. He had actually forgotten about the horcrux issue entirely. No, not forgotten, just pushed to the bottom of his priority list. If worst came to worst a quick avada would do the trick. It would hurt Hermione but she would never have to know it was him. Perhaps with an imperius he could make it seem like a mercy killing.

Either way, he should probably try.

Gellert skipped his morning lessons, joining Ron and Hermione in the hall. Ron was moaning about the powers Malfoy had been lording over them, apparently Gryffindor had already lost over 100 points. Fortunately the hot headed boy didn’t notice the silver badge now pinned to Gellert’s robes. He handed them each a clear vial across the table.

‘This is the antidote to Veritaserum. Umbridge ordered Snape to give her his entire stock, so if she pulls one of you aside privately take this as soon as you can.’

The two teenagers shared a solemn look.

‘She’s got Harry now.’ Ron said.

‘Well, hopefully he’s not stupid enough to drink anything she gives him.’

Something exploded somewhere in the castle with a shuddering boom. The hall went silent, then murmuring broke out.

‘Fred and George.’ Ron whispered, ‘Come on, let’s go and have a look.’

They stood, following the flow of curious students now leaving the great hall. They only made it half way before something bright and fiery shot through the double doors with a screech like a banshee. It exploded above them and the students ducked as silvery pegasi swooped overhead. They were chased by a sparkler which wrote “Dumbledore Rules” in large letters before following it up with a string of swear words.

‘Well, that will get Harry out of Umbridge’s clutches.’

Then, speak of the devil, Umbridge herself was standing at the top of the stairs, flanked by Filch and just behind them, Harry. A red jet of light hit a Catherine wheel as it tried to escape up the grand staircase, it exploded, burning a hole into the portraits around it. Then, remembering something the twins had said about struggling to combine the duplication spell with the green fireworks, he pulled out his wand, the movement catching Ron’s attention.

‘What are you doing, you git?’ He said furiously.

‘Something I overheard from your brother.’ He replied, then he bellowed at the top of his lungs. ‘Inquisitorial squad, coming through!’

The students parted, allowing him through to the forefront of the crowd where he brandished his wand at one of the three green rockets. He bellowed the banishing spell and the jet of red light shot out of his wand, impacting solidly on the rocket, which obediently disappeared with an almost inaudible pop.

‘There! Banish them!’ Umbridge screeched, and the remainder of the inquisitorial squad obeyed, lifting their wands and casting banishing charms. Each firework fizzled down to an ember, inciting a disappointed groan from the students. A second wave of the charms had the corridor almost entirely back under control. Then, with a sound like a gunshot, one of the embers exploded back into life, ten dragons roaring through the room. Like popcorn in a hot pan, embers exploded back into ten times the number of fireworks. Umbridge squealed in dismay as they spilled over her head in huge numbers, escaping into the rest of the school.

‘Brilliant, Mate.’ Ron muttered admiringly, but Gellert was more interested in looking confused enough to throw Umbridge off his trail.


	38. Chapter 38

Gellert had found exams so far laughably easy. He was almost certain he had answered every question correctly so far, all without putting in a minute of revision. He hoped his wandless magic would offset hits inability to cast a patronus in Defence, but that was the only potential spot for bad marks.

He received a letter from Lucius Malfoy on the last morning of his exams, letting him know that Voldemort had tried to send Harry a vision. Judging by the silence from the boy, it seemed Hermione had been successful in her attempts to teach Harry occlumency, which meant it would fall to Gellert to trick him into believing something was going to happen at the ministry.

Their divination exam was first thing in the morning, so Gellert snuck into the staff room at breakfast, putting the examiner to sleep and replacing the list of people that would be in the room at once. Now he would be examined in the last group, at the same time as Harry Potter and it was well within his ability as a powerful seer to manipulate whatever medium they used into showing what he needed it to.

It was a crystal ball – massive enough for the examiner and all the students to be able to see it. He knew the theory behind these exams; the examiner was a true seer, although usually not powerful, who would watch the ball until they saw something. The students would all be marked on how well they picked up on the signs. The students filed in, sitting at the desks that had been arranged in a circle around the ball. There was a blank sheet of paper in front of them and an anti-cheating quill.

Gellert took a seat immediately and began to filter out his thoughts. Controlling what appeared in a medium was something only those with the sight could do; it would be quite normal for someone inexperience with their talent to accidently project onto the ball during a test. He had done it himself when he was young, although the clarity it would need to convince Harry would out just how powerful Gellert was as a seer.

He had already found the right visions, having spent the waiting time gazing into the future and past. Strung together in the right order they could easily convince Harry that something was happening.

The examiner called for silence and everyone sat down. The mist within the ball began to coil into the form of a terrier as the examiner exerted his sight. Gellert stirred restlessly, as though he had yet to settle and the examiner cast him an irritated look as the dog disappeared. He obediently fell still, and reached for the first vision, letting it fill his mind as he stared at the ball. The smoke cleared quickly until a fine mist drifted through a long corridor. He had stolen this image from Harry’s dream, and he followed it as he approached the door. He heard gasps from around the room and a frantic scribbling of quills. He cracked his eyes open to see the examiner looking directly at him. The ball fogged over again and Gellert focused, this time a vision of the past – Voldemort ordering a masked death eater to capture Black.

He opened his eyes again as several students screamed, the examiner had jumped to his feet and was hurrying around the orb, presumably to stop Gellert from his control of the ball and the vision he was letting unfold. Sweat beaded his brow from the effort, but it would make him look like he was in a true trance so he didn’t wipe it off. He had one last vision to show, this one was the future. The ball cleared one last time, showing Sirius Black in a dark room, duelling against several deatheaters, followed by a snap of prophesies collapsing from their shelves, another of the black corridor and the examiner was shaking his shoulder.

He opened his eyes blearily.

‘Are you okay?’ The examiner asked him seriously. Every eyes was upon him and he could see Harry anxiously shifting in his seat a little way around the circle.

‘Yes, sir.’ He said, forcing his voice to be shaky. He rubbed at his forehead as if experiencing a migraine. ‘Will all that come true sir?’

‘I believe most of it was in the past. You have a very powerful gift Mr. Abernathy.’ The examiner sounded sympathetic, then turned to the rest of the room. ‘You are all very fortunate. Mr. Abernathy here had provided you all with perhaps the easiest exam any student will ever sit. Please copy down your interpretations.’

The examiner helped Gellert to the door and made sure he was comfortable in a seat. Gellert shifted urgently.

‘What about my result sir?’ He asked, the image of a nervous student.

‘I think with a talent like that, this exam is a little beneath you, don’t you think. I will make a note on your paper but I believe you already know your mark.’ The examiner said with a little smile.

‘Yes sir.’

The examiner went back through the open door, allowing Gellert to catch his breath for a moment. Then Harry was rushing out, Ron hot on his heels.

‘You saw all that right? He’s got Sirius. We’ve got to go!’

Gellert didn’t protest, just followed Harry down the corridor until they reached the courtyard. Hermione was there, having already finished her exams. Her expression of joy turned to one of worry when she saw their expressions.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Voldemort has Sirius. Gellert saw a vision.’ Ron said shakily and Hermione huffed, but she knew Gellert’s visions were a far cry from the rubbish those less powerful spouted. ‘Seriously Hermione, it was so powerful that we all saw it!’

‘How are we going to get there?’Hermione asked.

‘How about the thestrals?’ Luna Lovegood said breezily from behind them.

‘What? How do you know about all this?’ Harry demanded. Neville stepped out from behind the airy blonde.

‘I told them. I was in that divination exam too.’ He sounded surprisingly bold.

‘Well, thanks Luna. But we’ll need backup.’ Hermione said briskly.

‘Er, we’ve got Grindelwald?’ Ron pointed out, seconds before Hermione slammed her hand over his mouth. There was shocked silence for a moment before the Neville and Luna turned to Gellert.

‘You’re Grindelwald? Like, Gellert Grindelwald?’ Neville squeaked. Gellert sighed and nodded.

‘Yes well, that’s an important secret. Dumbledore put him here to help keep Harry safe.’ Hermione informed them acidly. Gellert sneered at the thought of being sent anywhere by Albus. Hermione should have known better than to word it like that. His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar cough. The devil in pink stood right behind him. He spun smartly on his heel, snapping to attention in the way he’d done at Durmstrang.

‘Professor, these students were about to let slip an important secret of Professor Dumbledore’s’ He reported, thankful that he had been standing just far enough behind them all for it to look like he’d been eavesdropping.

‘Where they now? Seize them!’ Umbridge ordered the remainder of the squad behind her. They jumped forwards, grabbing Gryffindors and Gellert joined them, taking Hermione gently. Following Umbridge’s lead they began frog marching them up to her office.

They arrived, surrounding the desk as Umbridge took a seat.

‘Now, this secret. I suspect I know something that might loosen your tongues.’ She surveyed the assembled students. Gellert had no idea how Ginny Weasley had gotten caught up in this but she looked as vicious as she was confused.

‘Yes, yes, well, Dumbledore’s secret. It’s a matter of ministry security... Cornelius would understand that considering the circumstance.... The Cruicatus curse ought to loosen your tongues.’

Umbridge raised her wand, levelling it at Harry, Hermione whimpered, almost tearing out of his hold. Gellert had little choice; Hermione would never forgive him if Harry was tortured in front of her.

‘Now.’ He shouted and the inquisitorial squad that he’d spent so long working with released their captives, passing their wands back before turning their own on themselves. Six stunning spells flashed from Slytherin wands, overpowered only by the bright purple of Grindelwald’s own spell. The inquisitorial squad crumpled, victim to their own stunning spells. Umbridge suddenly found herself bound and gagged on the floor.

‘I am Albus’ secret weapon, Delores Umbridge.’ He hissed at the witch on the floor, before turning to the stunned Gryffindors (and Ravenclaw.)

He strode from the room, followed by the gaggle of students. He could faintly hear Ron and Harry arguing against the others coming, but he wasn’t concerned. They would all end up going eventually, Gryffindors were like that. He led them down to the forest, trekking through the darkened trees in the direction of the place the thestrals always flew over. He didn’t have to go far; they hadn’t been in the forest for more than five minutes before they came across the herd.

He had everyone mounted quickly, then approached Hermione solemnly.

‘I can’t accompany you. You know that right?’ He said, resting his hand on the gleaming neck of the thestral.

‘Why not?’ She sounded so surprised that he actually laughed.

‘I’m a wanted wizard. I’d be back in prison before sunrise.’ He laughed, ‘I’m going to find Albus.’

Hermione made a disappointed sound but nodded, digging her heels into the thestral she couldn’t see. The massive beast took off, the others following in a rush of wind. Gellert stood in the clearing, watching as the silhouettes became steadily smaller. Then, he turned on his heel and disappeared with a pop. He had his own mission to complete.


	39. Chapter 39

Hermione didn’t understand how it had all gone so wrong; the death eaters had been waiting for them in the hall of prophesy, no Sirius Black to be seen. They had been lured down here by Voldemort, who was somehow under the impression that he had implanted the vision in Harry’s mind, except they hadn’t been lured down by him, they’d come because Gellert had a vision of the future. Of course, it was only as she sprinted down a corridor between two tumbling towers of glass that she realised that of course Gellert had seen this – they had caused it by coming here. They were as bad as Voldemort when it came to chasing prophesies.

She sent one of Dumbledore’s speciality jinxes over her shoulder, a heavy whompf the only sign that anything had happened. The death eater chasing her gagged as he took a breath and realised there was no air.

She could see Harry’s heels ahead of her, cursing herself for not staying fitter as she wheezed. A death eater appeared in front of her. She skidded to a halt, then in a move she knew she would come to regret even as she did it, she pointed her wand upwards, and screamed Ascendio.

She shot upwards, managing to snag the top layer of the shelves. She heaved herself over, sending a couple of glass balls skittering down the tower. She was a long way up.

One of the death eaters sent a curse whizzing up, she shuffled forwards on her tummy, realising as she did that would be too slow. If only she could block their view for a moment – mist!

‘Caligo’ She whispered, poking her wand over the edge of the shelf. For a moment nothing happened, then the air around her suddenly became very dry. She peered over the edge; thick mist shrouded the death eaters, rising up to about half way up the shelf. She pushed herself to her feet and began shuffling along the shelf.

Then, as if in the distance she heard a thundering of glass. Off to her right, the shelves were caving in on themselves. It didn’t matter who had cast the curse, but she definitely didn’t want to be here when the shelf fell. She peered over the edge – it was a long way down. Perhaps if she performed Wingardium Leviosa on herself, but that was notoriously unstable. There must be a better charm, think, Hermione, think.

Then she was in freefall. Glass showered down with her, splintering into glittering crystals on the floor.

‘Arresto!’ Was all she managed to get out before she hit. Broken glass bit into her skin like a hundred tiny knives, but her spell must have done something because she wasn’t dead. Around her, apparitions of seers rose up from the shattered balls, forgotten prophesies being recited to the silent room. She scrambled to her feet, shifting the one or two balls that had been protected from impact by her body.

Glass tinkled somewhere to her left, she bolted, covered by the thousands of ghostly speakers.

‘-death will forever be your company.’ Intoned a witch in a ball gown as Hermione sprinted in the direction she hoped would be the door.

‘-the long awaited cure-‘ a wizard in a ruff said. Glass crackled in that direction, that couldn’t be good. Her cover wouldn’t last much longer.

‘-and he shall be free once more!’ A Slytherin student foretold, just as Hermione slammed into a wall. There! The door. She lunged sideways, yanking it open and diving into the room behind.

Her friends had already been here, the desks were overturned, sand and glass coated the floor in here too and a death eater with the head of a baby head sat cross legged on the floor, sucking his thumb.

She could hear shouting from couple of rooms away so she scurried into the next room. A huge explosion behind her as the door flew open and a death eater climbed through. His black robes glittered with glass dust and his face was streaked with blood. His mask was missing, revealing a weedy, narrow face that she recognised from the papers.

Then things became really strange; Hermione had been duelling Dolohov who sent purple curse after purple curse in her direction. Then she tripped over a rumple in the carpet, of all things. A disarming spell tore her wand out of her hand and Dolohov caught it with a vicious grin.

She braced herself, then suddenly there was a death eater between them. The newcomer sent several curses towards the shocked Dolohov, his pale blond hair swirling around his shoulders as he slashed his wand. Two wands soared towards him at the same time as Dolohov crumpled. Lucius Malfoy turned to face her.

‘Quickly. We need to get you out of here.’ She shook her head, scrambling away from him.

‘I’ve been working with Grindelwald for months. I doubt he’d appreciate his little girlfriend getting killed. Now get up, we need to get out of here.’ The pureblood sneered as he tossed her wand at her.

‘I can’t leave without the others.’ She said resolutely.

‘The Order are here. The others will be fine.’ He snapped, obliviating Dolohov. ‘Now move.’

Hermione reluctantly got to her feet, she had no idea what to think of Gellert’s plans anymore. He seemed to have connections in all sorts of strange places. She followed Malfoy, who seemed to know exactly where they were going as he led her through the corridors. She would have left, but they didn’t encounter a single other death eater and either way, she would be closer to her friends.

She heard shouting from her left and made a sudden decision, abandoning her trailing of Malfoy in favour of helping her friends. Harry bolted past her, hollering bloody murder at Bellatrix Lestrange, who whipped around a corner out of sight. She managed to dive through the door of the rotating room just before it began spinning. Harry hollered for the exit like a madman, and Hermione dove after him, slamming the door just as Lucius Malfoy ran through a different door. She sprinted after Harry and Bellatrix, missing the lift Harry took by a fraction of a second. She jabbed frantically at the button, then spun and took the stairs instead.

She was wheezing by the third floor. This time the lift answered her straight away, doors opening with a strangely gentle ping. The jumped inside, jamming the button for the atrium, certain that Bellatrix would have been trying to escape. She needn’t have worried. She would have heard Bellatrix screeching from floors away.

She tumbled out of the lift just as Voldemort appeared. His eyes met hers across the space and suddenly he was right behind her, those long, white fingers could belong to no one else. His high, cold voice echoed across the space and she found herself being forced to cross the atrium, Voldemort’s wand at her throat.

Harry shouted something, but she couldn’t hear him over her own terrified panting. She felt the wand lift from her neck, saw it levelled at Harry, heard the rumble in Voldemort’s chest as he uttered the first word of that terrible curse, and she bit him.

Her teeth sank into the bare skin of the arm that restrained her, putrid tasting blood filled her mouth as the Dark Lord threw her off with a strangled cry. Her head cracked against the floor and she gagged, spitting black blood onto the polished floor.

Pain flooded through her, unbelievable, like nothing she had ever experienced before. She writhed, biting her tongue hard enough that her own blood overpowered the taste of Voldemort’s in her mouth. Then the pain stopped abruptly.

A familiar voice, curses, explosions, flashes of light from behind her closed eyelids, then someone was dragging her across the floor.

‘Hermione, Hermione, wake up. We’ve got to move.’ It was Harry. His hands were hooked under her armpits as he tried to get them away from the battle. She opened her eyes; two figures duelled among a maelstrom of light and magic. Dark magic clashed against dark magic, one twisted and warped, awesome as it writhed like a snake, the other an icy swirl, a force of nature; it was like watching two titans clash. Then a third titan appeared, this one like a beacon of glowing light. The light joined the ice, the two chaffing against one another even as they worked together.

‘Hermione, move!’ Harry snapped again. She looked up at him, a bubble of bright gold, twined in twisted black.

‘I... I can’t see Harry.’ She said, frantically reaching for the gold. Harry cursed and an arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her to standing. She leant against him heavily, both of them stumbling as the  edges of the magical storm caught them. She glanced back – the figures were still fighting, the ice and light winning now. Then the fractured one disappeared and the dark bands around Harry’s gold pulsed with life, constricting like a serpent. Hermione cried out as she hit the floor with him, scrambling to get clear as he began to thrash.

Then the icy one was there, surprisingly warm arms lifting her up and away. She struggled, needing to return to Harry, even as he began to speak in a cold, high voice. Voldemort. Somehow Voldemort was in Harry.

Hermione cried out, scrambling for her friend as though she could tear Voldemort off him, blind and wandless as she was. She heard a muffled curse, then several loud pops. Bright bursts of colour began to appear behind Harry.

With a final screech, the bonds released Harry and the twisted one reappeared. Voldemort, she realised. That must be Voldemort. The icy one was Gellert. With a final, furious scream Voldemort disappeared, taking the small purple blob that must have been Bellatrix with him.

Gellert swore violently from behind her and she suddenly realised what the other coloured dots must be. The ministry was here, and he, a wanted wizard, stood plainly and blatantly in front of them all.


	40. Chapter 40

‘He was there!’ A man in a red robe cried, pointing to where Voldemort had stood only seconds before. ‘I swear I saw You-Know-Who right there.’

Gellert looked about frantically. His plan to expose Voldemort had worked beautifully, he just hadn’t expected Hermione to go throwing herself into the path of such a powerful dark wizard – biting him or all things. He’d stepped in to save her, and now he was stuck. He considered disapparating, taking the injured Hermione with him but he didn’t know exactly what had happened to her, whether she would be strong enough to apparate. Then, before he could make a decision either way he had been noticed.

He’d managed to get away with only his youth as a disguise so far because it was only a rare few that had seen a photo of him before his hair bleached to white and he grew that moustache. It seemed the auror department, in their mission to capture him, had found one of those few images because it was one of their number that pointed him out.

‘Seize him.’ Cornelius Fudge ordered, his voice cracking. ‘Grindelwald and Dumbledore are working together. They’ve got an apparition of you-know-who.’

There was a bang and ropes shot from someone’s wand. Gellert almost dropped Hermione, who had by now fallen limp in his arms, as he adjusted her so that he could burn the ropes away. Albus got there before him.

‘I’d suggest you do not attack one of my students again.’ The Headmaster advised sternly as Gellert finally managed to shift Hermione so that he could hold his wand. He wouldn’t be able to use the correct gestures but that was of little consequence to a wizard of his calibre.

‘You-Know-Who looked pretty real to me, Sir.’ A witch in a green nightgown added, her blue robes inside out and tied with a scarf.

‘Is that Harry Potter?’ Someone else commented. Harry was getting to his feet, looking exhausted after the possession but otherwise well. Suddenly the attention was split between the notorious criminal from the history books and the hero of their time.

‘If you proceed downstairs to the department of mysteries, Cornelius, I think you will find several of the escaped death eaters trapped by way of an anti-apparition jinx, courtesy of Mr, Grindelwald.’ Albus added, speaking over the speculation of the crowd. Gellert had actually had little to do with capturing the death eaters, Dumbledore had seen to that whilst Gellert battled Voldemort, but the details wouldn’t matter in the long run.

‘Merlin’s beard, Dumbledore, you can’t just expect me to... Gellert Grindelwald, here in the ministry... certainly not...’

‘I suggest you do not try anything, Cornelius. Gellert is a very powerful wizard, currently protecting someone very dear to him. If you decided to take him, there is no doubt that you would not win.’ Albus cautioned in a thunderous voice, and Gellert felt a rush of gratitude that his friend was standing up for him. He could have won and escaped but it would be dangerous for Hermione and she was already unconscious in his arms.

‘I don’t... well... Dawlish, Williamson, go down to the department of mysteries, yes better take Vance with you too... Merlin, what on earth happened to the statue? Dumbledore, you must tell me at once...’ Fudge stuttered as he looked around the decimated atrium. Gellert hadn’t actually noticed how much damage the cataclysmic duel had done until the minister pointed it out – the gold fountain had been melted at some point, the resulting liquid gold refrozen as it arced over a combatant like a tidal wave. The black tiles up the walls had fallen at some point, shards of terracotta coating the marble floor in a dust. Steaming craters pockmarked the far wall, some noxious looking fluid still oozing from the largest, meanwhile over near the fountain the water had mixed with tile dust to form a thick sludge. Blood and bile was splattered across the floor near the centre, a result of Hermione’s encounter with Voldemort and the two filthy teenagers, one carried in Gellert’s arms, the other standing awkwardly a little way off.

‘I will give you one hour of my time, Cornelius. Once, and only once my students are safe.’ Albus bent and picked up a large chunk of tile, pointing his wand at it to turn it into a port key. The shard glowed blue, vibrating for a second before settling. Albus handed it to Harry before turning back to Gellert and Hermione.

‘Now see here Albus... You can’t just do that... in front of the minister for magic...’ Fudge started, but he was interrupted by Albus throwing up his hand and a warning glare that even Gellert would have been proud of. The headmaster turned back to Hermione, tilting her head back against Gellert’s shoulder and feeling her pulse. He lifted an eyelid, revealing eyes that almost glowed in the shadow of the two wizards.

‘Perhaps to St. Mungos with her, I think this is a little beyond Poppy.’ Albus said to him quietly. ‘but I think you should have no problems apparating with her, she seems strong enough.’ Their eyes met and Albus projected a memory for him – a waiting room that could only be St. Mungos hospital.

Gellert nodded, disappearing with a sharp crack and reappearing in St. Mungos. A nurse rushed over to him the moment she took him in, calling for a healer and demanding an explanation. He explained that he didn’t know and asked to speak to the best healer they had. The nurse scowled at him and asked just who he thought he was, so he told her bluntly that Hermione had just fought Voldemort himself.

That had the head healer hurrying towards him in no time, a huddle of less senior healers on his tail. Hermione and Gellert were rushed upstairs, Gellert explaining along the way exactly what had happened. The healer nodded, looking concerned and hurried them into the closest room. Gellert was pushed out of the way as the less senior healers began to examine the young witch, the head stayed with him, quizzing him about Voldemort’s resurrection ritual without once asking how Gellert knew such dark details. He added every detail he knew, including Voldemort’s heritage, his bond with the snake, his split soul and as a last thing, he remembered Hermione mentioning that the Dark Lord had lived off unicorn blood for a time. The healer’s pursed lips were not a good sign.

He didn’t know how long he waited; something Dumbledore said must have achieved something for him because no aurors came for him. There was a brief flurry of activity as Ron was brought in, one of the senior medics departing, a nurse whispering to him about brains.

There was a second scuffle a short while later; a nurse hurrying in to ask for a potioneer – apparently the news this morning had caused an influx of people needing calming draughts and they were running out.

Then finally the exhausted head healer was approaching, the others dispersing.

‘Her body is exhausted, she should come around soon. We’ve eliminated all the bacteria and viruses that were transferred in the blood and healed her other injuries. She was suffering from the venom of a Maledictus, which we believe was contained as a component of the blood. She is still experiencing some strange effect with her sight however; she seems to be able to see people but not objects.’ The healer hesitated slightly. ‘I suspect I know who you are... and if I am right there is a fair chance you know more about the subject than I.’

‘Have you got a sample of the blood?’ He finally asked and the healer nodded.

‘It seemed to be a mixture of several different bloods- what we assume to be his own as well as two others that we suspect to be that of Peter Pettigrew and Harry Potter. There is a trace of what we believe to be unicorn blood and the snake venom. We did however find traces of a powerful protective enchantment unlike anything we have ever experienced, although the enchantment seemed to have no effect on You-Know-Who.’

‘Unicorn blood is a powerful substance, usually it has beneficial properties but it come accompanied by some terrible consequences. There are some very unusual effects when the blood is given willingly, but I do not know the effect when it is taken by attacking someone who stole it in the first place.’

‘Her sight might be a curse, or perhaps the price of a blessing.’ The healer finished for him and Gellert nodded thoughtfully. ‘Either way, it is beyond our mortal – or if the rumours about who you are are to be believed – immortal hands. I would suggest taking her back to Hogwarts now, I will send a note to Madame Pomfrey. She will need daily inspections until we decide otherwise.’

Gellert nodded and moved over to pick up Hermione’s unconscious figure. The healer helped him adjust her in his arms so that he could reach his wand, then he disappeared with a pop.


	41. Chapter 41

Hermione was in the hospital wing; the strong smell of potions was as much of a clue as the lack of perfume. A page turned next to her, then a quill scratched a note on parchment. It was a sound she loved and she suspected she had a pretty good guess as to who would be the only person in the school who would still be researching after exams.

‘Gellert?’ She asked, blearily opening her eyes. She blinked to clear them, then kept blinking. The blackness didn’t clear and she began to panic, the events at the ministry flooding back to her. Had Voldemort done something permanent to her? That icy maelstrom of magic leaned over but she was too hyperventilating too hard to hear him speak. It couldn’t be permanent, she wasn’t even sixteen.

Then suddenly a liquid was being forced down her throat. She choked and gargled for a couple for seconds until she managed to cough up the liquid she’d breathed in.

‘You should never be a medi-wizard.’ She eventually managed to splutter. She suspected that potion had just been a calming draught. Everything suddenly felt much easier to deal with.

‘They didn’t manage to heal your eyes; the healers think it might be the price of a gift somehow. How are you feeling... otherwise?’ He asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. He was a silhouette of darkness, a torn mess of scar tissue and half healed damage, around him drifted an aura of icy magic, carrying the metallic scent that was always around him.

‘I think I’m seeing you.’ She commented. ‘Inside. Like your magic.’

‘Really?’ He sounded genuinely interested.

‘I can see your magic for sure, like this blue around you.’ She waved her hand at the blue aura that surrounded him, then looked at her own silvery fingers with some surprise. ‘I’m silver!’ She declared, shocked. She jumped to her feet, Gellert’s scarred black hands caught her, again surprising in their warmth.

She hurried out of the bed, determined to see the others, and ran straight into some fabric. It wrapped around, suffocating and trapping her. She couldn’t find her way out, batting at the fabric until suddenly those warm hands were pulling her out, fresh air blew from his direction and she allowed him to pull her back to the bed where she dropped back to sitting.

‘Is it going to be like this forever?’ Her excitement had worn off quickly as the reality of the situation sunk in.

‘We don’t know. We think it’s an effect of the unicorn blood you got from biting Voldemort. But we can work through it.’

‘Can we really?’ She asked uncertainly and she could hear the smile in Gellert’s voice as he next spoke.

‘Stand up.’ She obeyed and she felt him press her wand into her hand. ‘Keep hold of this. You should always have it with you.’

‘Constant Vigilance.’ She muttered. She did feel better with her wand in her hand, so she let Gellert lead her out. She felt the swoosh of the curtain as it fell behind her, then she could see the gold light that was Harry, those black tendrils dormant again. Ron was a clear, bright red lying next to where Harry sat. Unlike Gellert, there was no difference in the silhouette and the aura of their magic.

A whimper drew her attention to someone with a brown aura, their silhouette streaked with black. Umbridge.

‘Hermione!’ the boys chorused as they saw her standing there. The gold that was Harry stood up and made it way over, wrapping her into a hug, then between him and Gellert she was led over to Ron.

For a couple of minutes they updated her on what she had missed. She had apparently been out for just over two days and the boys had discovered a very amusing trick in the meantime. Ron called out Grindelwald’s name and Umbridge squeaked in alarm, sitting bolt upright. Madam Pomfrey called out her office, asking if Umbridge was okay. The group of students giggled among themselves – no, not giggled. Something had changed, a kind of solemn maturity had woven through them.

The boys carried on talking, updating her on all sorts of menial things, but she was more interested in her new found gift. Ron wasn’t as simple as he first seemed – different colours flashed through the red. Flashes of white sparked in his magic, occasionally orange spiralled around him and a slight brown accented his silhouette. Harry’s had similar flashes of white, although the streaks of orange were much more pronounced, however his silhouette had a thick, foggy swirl of grey.

As the topic moved onto Gryffindors current status of 0 house points, Hermione finally shifted her eyes to Grindelwald. He was by far the most interesting, now that she looked closer, the rune that was carved onto his right hand was also there in his silhouette, a deep purple that was almost invisible against the black. His silhouette was almost solidly black with the occasional, rare flash of blue. She was pulled out of her observations by Harry calling her name.

‘So everyone knows you bit Voldemort, you’re famous.’ Ron said to her. She winced and Harry touched her shoulder reassuringly.

‘They’ll all forget about it soon enough.’ He said reassuringly.

‘When are we all going to be released?’ she asked into the awkward silence.

‘Well, Harry’s free to come and go as he wants; he only got a couple of scratches. Grindelwald didn’t even have to get new robes of course. You’re meant to be coming back for a check up every night I think, but you’re good to go too. I’m stuck here for ages still – something about how thoughts are the worst injury.’ He popped something into his mouth and she heard him chewing loudly.

‘Hagrid’s back too.’ Harry added, as though he knew she hadn’t been paying attention.

‘Really?’ Gellert spoke up for the first time since they had emerged from the curtained bed. ‘Are you okay here for a moment, Hermione?’

So much for getting through it together she thought bitterly as he disappeared out of the hospital wing. Her disappointment must have showed on her face, because Harry reached out comfortingly.

Gellert didn’t get back for days and in them, Hermione learned several things about her new condition. Parvati Patil, despite how annoying she was usually had suddenly become incredibly helpful. The girl specifically took the time to help Hermione dress each morning, making sure her clothes were the right way out and clean. Ginny and Harry could be relied upon at breakfast to help with her food, Ron and Dean liked to sneak things she didn’t like onto her plate.

Surprisingly, Luna had become the best as Hermione liked to sit at the top of the astronomy tower and observe the fascinating array of colours as students wandered among the grounds. Sometimes Ginny would join them, flying up on her broom and lounging on the pile of pillows Hermione had conjured. The red-head would usually bring the prophet, reading the latest story about Harry’s heroism. Unfortunately they hadn’t been lying; the fact that she’d saved Harry Potter by biting Voldemort was famous. It irritated her to no end that after all her academia and her fantastic spell-work, this was what made the newspapers.


	42. Chapter 42

Gellert did not want to be here in the slightest. Hagrid had most likely introduced him as Abernathy but Scamander was far too intelligent to believe that for long once he met him. The half giant had sent him to a residence in Dorset. The entire property had one of the most powerful muggle repelling charms he had ever seen, perhaps due to the various monsters Scamander and his family kept.

He stalked up the driveway, hoping that this meeting would give him the information he needed – something, anything to help with Hermione’s condition.

He could hear movement from inside the house as he paused by the door, the eldest was definitely home. Then again, Hagrid had sent a letter warning them that he was coming. As Abernathy of course.

Ah, that one would never fool Scamander. He had forgotten the Magizoologist had already discovered that pseudonym. It was too late now though, he’d already knocked and the handle had begun to turn. Then it flew open with a bang and three bluish creatures whizzed out with gleeful screeches. Gellert ducked them, then remembered too late where he’d seen those blasted things before.

His knees hit the ground painfully, missing the padding of the welcome mat by an inch.

He couldn’t help the mutinous scowl that he levelled at Scamander as he came down the stairs. The other wizard approached cautiously, his wand raised until he was standing right in the doorway, wand levelled straight between Gellert’s eyes.

‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t hand you over to the aurors.’ The ancient looking man croaked.

‘Because I’m working with Albus Dumbledore.’ That seemed to do the trick. Scamander’s wand wavered as he took in this new bit of information. ‘I need your help.’ Oh it hurt so much to say it, but Hermione needed him.

‘Oh, do you?’ Scamander asked, not lifting that wand. Evidently they would be having this conversation with him bound and kneeling on the floor.

‘Hagrid sent me.’

‘Yes, I received his letter. Did you really think you would get away with using that name?’ Scamander scowled at him, as though Gellert’s forgetfulness was an insult to him.

‘I didn’t think.’ He replied, feeling awfully like he had become the hopeless one in their relationship. Was this how Scamander had felt every time he’d held him at wand point.

‘You needed help. Tell me what you need and I’ll think about it.’

‘It’s a long story.’ A jab of the wand told him to hurry up. ‘Hermione drank unicorn blood when she took a bite out of Voldemort. She can’t see anything except souls.’

That finally got the wand out of his face.

‘You wouldn’t want her seeing that soul of yours too much, I imagine.’ Scamander joked and Gellert sneered at him. Then finally, that damn bug untwined from around his wrists and ankles. He stood in a fluid motion, shaking out his wrists to get the blood flow back. Scamander disappeared into the house and Gellert, with no other instructions, followed him.

The house would have been at the height of fashion fifty years earlier; pretty lace curtains and lots of antique furniture. The photographs on the walls had as many of Scamander’s creatures as it did his family and one particularly large one showed Dumbledore’s merry band of fighters, as they had still stood in the late 1920’s. The muggle was probably long gone by now, Newt’s naive little wife, pretty as she may have been and quick with her spellwork had presumably been sent away to safety whilst the dangerous dark wizard visited.

He found Scamander in the kitchen, taking a kettle off the aga. He poured them both a drink; tea by the smell. The Brit passed the steaming cup to him, then took a seat at the table with a heavy sigh.

‘So your friend has drunk Unicorn blood and cursed herself in the process?’ Scamander summarised, and Gellert wondered if he was intentionally goading him.

‘No,’ He gritted out, ‘Hermione took a chunk out of Voldemort’s arm to stop him killing Harry Potter.’

‘Ah, so how did the unicorn blood come into it then?’ Gellert wondered if Albus had modelled his senile old wizard act off this man or vice versa.

‘Voldemort used it in his resurrection ritual. Killed at least two of them to get it.’

‘Ah, I see. So now she’s seeing your ugly soul and having second thoughts?’

‘She can’t see anything else, you old coot; not a book, a chair, even a candle!’ He snapped, sweeping the stupid dainty teacup off the table. It shattered on the tiles, sending brown tea splattering across the room. He snarled and picked the biggest piece of the teacup up off the floor – the handle and base, still smeared with leaves. A blatant message of futility and searching in the wrong places glared back at him and he chucked the thing back down again.

‘Are you quite done with my chinaware, Mr Grindelwald?’ demanded a voice from behind him. He turned in his chair to see an elderly lady standing in the doorway. Her immaculate black skirt and the short bob her hair was still cut in let him know this was Scamander’s wife. He took several deep breaths to calm himself. His temper had been short since Hermione’s accident and it would get him nowhere now.

‘Forgive me, Mrs. Scamander.’ He stood, bowing smoothly at the waist. He drew his wand, repairing the teacup and siphoning all the wasted liquid down the sink. Then he returned to his seat, taking another calming breath.

‘Newt, if you listened when I read the papers in the mornings, you’d know exactly what he was talking about.’ She reprimanded, hobbling around the table to the chair furthest from Gellert. Newt Scamander grumbled something about the prophet being full of tosh anyway.

‘I need to find out as much as possible about the curse from Unicorn blood.’ Gellert repeated and Scamander finally adopted the look of an academic. He drummed his fingers against his chin, then finally came to a decision.

‘The side effect of unicorn blood depends a lot upon how it is taken. Unicorn blood unwillingly given bestows a curse, Unicorn blood willingly given can carry a powerful blessing. My theory would be that the unicorn’s curse recognised your little friend as an ally and blessed her. What I do not understand is why she lost her sight. Unicorns by their very nature do not exact a price for their blessings.’

‘So how do I find out how to get rid of this blessing.’ He muttered, Scamander was already shaking his head.

‘Not even you can remove the blessing of a unicorn, Gellert Grindelwald.’ Gellert slammed his hand down on the table in frustration, earning another scolding from Tina Scamander.

‘There is however, someone who I believe might be able to help understand this blessing. There is an expert on the matter – a monk that lives in India. Perhaps he might be able to help you.’ Scamander nodded to his wife, who gave a resigned nod and waved her wand. A battered, familiar suitcase came whizzing down the stairs, landing softly on the table. Scamander picked it up, pecked his wife on the cheek and shuffled off down the hallway. Gellert gave a disgruntled sigh and followed him.

He found Scamander waiting in the driveway, an arm out expectantly.

‘Well, are you going to apparate us or not?’ The old magizoologist snapped.

‘Where too?’ Gellert gave a tired sigh, already dreading this expedition they would be going on together.

‘India of course. I doubt the ministry of magic will appreciate you popping into the international travel department. Dumbledore seemed quite familiar with long distance apparition.’ Gellert sneered and took Scamander’s arm, considering whether it would be worth it to intentionally splinch the magizoologist. He decided against it – an injured old coot was would be an even bigger pain than the uninjured one, but that didn’t mean he would make it comfortable for the man.

They arrived in India to a blast of heat and sound. It was late afternoon, the crush of people trying to make their way home radiating sound. The two wizards plunged into the rush hour traffic, blaring horns and shouting making talking impossible. Engines grumbled, heat rippling up from the tarmac in a wave of pungent fumes.

Scamander ducked and wove between people, almost as though they were clearing him a path even as they seemed to close up around Gellert. The dark wizard barged his way through, ignoring the swearing and ringing of bike bells. The last time he had visited, the streets had been far emptier; every able man called up by the British to fight their war.

By the time he reached the station, he was almost to the point of burning New Delhi to the ground, bikes, people and all. His shirt clung to his skin like a film and he cast a couple of quick wandless cooling charms, sighing in relief as they chilled his damp skin. Scamander had already joined the queue at the ticket barrier and was busy whispering to his collar – presumably some magical insect nested inside. As usual, he was completely oblivious to the looks he was getting, but the bubble of space people gave him as a result was perhaps not a bad thing.

Gellert rolled up his sleeves as he joined the other wizard in the queue, finally seeing the little blue beetle that Scamander spoke to. He ignored him, instead picking up a receipt from the ground and surreptitiously transfiguring it into a handful of muggle money.

Tickets in hand, and wondering at the amazed looks the officer at the barrier gave them, they hurried up the platform to their train. Their carriage was at the closest end of the platform, which was only to be expected as he had ordered first class tickets. Scamander, assuming that Gellert had actually paid for the tickets, had protested all the way, claiming that third class would just as reliably get them there. Either the man hadn’t visited India before or he had a very misguided sense of adventure.

The reason for the looks at the barrier quickly became obvious – perhaps the money he had waved at the cashier had been a little too much – he appeared to have booked the entire carriage. A butler waited at the door to take their luggage, of which they had none as Scamander refused to part with his briefcase.

They climbed into a lavishly decorated lounge, comfortable leather chairs were arranged around a polished wooden table, a massive TV taking up the back wall. An enclosed compartment took up the end of the carriage and the Butler promised that the two beds would be separated as soon as they departed.

As the train departed from the station they were served afternoon tea and biscuits, before Gellert requested privacy. He claimed they had important business matters to discuss, and told the butler in no uncertain terms that he was not to interrupt them.

Once they were alone, he turned to the Magizoologist, who was gazing around him with some surprise. Clearly he had not spent much time among the upper class.

‘Tell me about this man we are going to visit.’ Gellert demanded, bring Scamander’s attention back to him. Perhaps the man was still shocked by the train because he gave a completely straight answer.

‘He is a monk, part of a group that focus on the advanced magic of the mind and soul – they are almost entirely disconnected with the outside world, seeing events only through their visions. I think they believe the struggles of mortals to be a distraction from the ethereal plane.’

‘How did you come into contact with them?’ A small smile quirked one side of Scamander’s lips and his eyes became unfocused, remembering some past adventure.

‘They were being plagued by an Occamy infestation – they wanted them to be removed humanely.’ Scamander tapped his briefcase thoughtfully. ‘If only people would wait until after they had hatched to sell their shells.’

Gellert didn’t particularly care when Occamy shells were gathered, and Scamander was clearly done sharing information about this monk they were going to meet, so he pulled out the master book from his library and continued his research on Horcruxes.

Gellert was reluctant to get off the train when they arrived at the town closest to their destination. They had passed through a powerful anti apparition ward several hours before their arrival, and as they got closer a heavy, oppressive feeling had settled against him, making him feel lethargic and distinctly unwelcome. Only the thought of the young girl that had fallen victim to his mistakes forced him to leave the coolly air conditioned carriage and step onto the muggy platform.

It was damp, almost tropical feeling with a thick fog which prevented them seeing the far end of the train. The train departed with a loud clatter of wheels and pistons, leaving them alone on the deserted platform. The hairs on Gellert’s neck stood up and he spun, wand drawn.

A man stood, where nobody had before. A silvery three fold robe made him difficult to see and his grey hair wisped away into the fog. A stark tattoo of a third eye in the centre of his forehead was the only feature that stood out in his otherwise bleached appearance.

‘You have come to meet with the Yogeśvara.’ The monk stated, his voice startlingly mundane despite his almost ethereal appearance.

‘We have.’ Gellert replied, fingering his wand. The monk’s eyes were drawn to the death stick and his eyebrows drew together, crinkling the eye on his forehead.

‘We do not usually welcome your kind into the Mahalaya.’ Gellert tensed, fury and dread beginning to pool in his gut. ‘The Yogeśvara has made an exception today.’ The monk continued quickly, perhaps sensing the danger he was in. Scamander laid a cautioning hand on his wand arm, Gellert hissed and shrugged him off, stalking after the monk into the mist.

They turned left at the end of the platform, climbing up the hill and away from the town. The path was overgrown, full of dripping plants and humming bugs. Birds twittered in the tree canopy above them and creatures rustled in the bushes. The path was steep, and became more treacherous as they continued, the monk climbed in silence and Scamander wheezed behind him.

Just when he believed the old coot was about to suffer a heart attack, they finally passed underneath an ivy covered archway and into what he could only assume was their destination. They stood in a clearing surrounded by large, beehive shaped stone buildings. Despite the number of silver dressed monks in the area, it was completely silent, save for the soft tread of feet and the rustle of clothing. As they passed through, monks roused from their meditation, glaring at Gellert as though he had personally done something to offend them. He glared right back, which seemed to frighten most of them into looking away, perhaps not the best tactic but one that was inordinately satisfying.

They entered the largest of the stone buildings, passing almost blindly through a pitch black corridor. Then their escort pushed open a set of double doors and the light was momentarily blinding. Gellert blinked quickly, forcing his eyes to acclimatise as he looked around. They were in a large, almost bare room, build of the same earthy tones stone as the exterior of the building and completely windowless, except for a massive skylight at the top of the dome. The sun blazed through, seemingly through a tunnel of fog and illuminated the room brightly, focused on the tree that grew in the centre of the room.

It wasn’t a large tree, nor did it look particularly old, but it had a kind of timeless quality, as if it were detached from the passage of the world. A monk sat in its shadow, deep in meditation, seemingly undisturbed by their arrival.

He stepped across the boundary of the room and a storm like breeze howled through the air, battering the branches of the tree and whipping their clothes around them. Gellert fell to his knees as his sight assaulted him with images, whipping them before his eyes before he had really processed each one. Then a voice cut through the chaos, calm and commanding and everything ceased. The wind died back, the sun brightened again and Gellert regained control of his sight, only the lingering image of a dark cave remaining.

‘You are gifted with the sight.’ The voice said and he looked up to see the monk from under the tree standing above him. He pushed himself to his feet, taking in the damage the sudden wind had done to the strange room. Leaves had been torn from the tree and their guide was retying his robe, leaves tangled in the folds of fabric. Scamander seemed to have been sheltered from the onslaught by the doorway because only his hair had been ruffled.

‘I am.’ He answered impatiently.

‘There are many among us who have worked decades to hone their talents, yet still do not have the power of your gift.’ The monk continued and Gellert fought not to roll his eyes. He was well are that his sight was unusually powerful, he was unusually powerful.

‘Why did you come to us, son of darkness?’ the monk asked magnanimously and Gellert snorted. Son of darkness, what nonsense, yet Scamander believed these people could help him, so he had to remain polite.

‘I was led to believe you might have knowledge which would help a friend of mine.’ He answered and the monk looked at him with interest.

‘An unusual request, for one such as yourself; to come seeking help for another?’ Gellert refrained from drumming his fingers against his thigh. ‘We do not usually allow those who have touched the darkness to tread within this sacred temple, yet I was advised to allow you here, despite your reek being stronger than any we have ever encountered. I was against the idea – we have seen what you have done and we have seen that you do not repent, but I am not one to question the will of the higher beings.’

If he reeked, it was only because of that obscenely long trek up the mountain from the station. Surely they could train some beast to fly up here? He forced himself not to snap and demand answers as the monk turned away and laid his hand against the trunk of the tree.

‘So will you help us?’ He asked, proud of the measured tone of his voice. He cast a look at Scamander who listened from the shadows of the doorway.

‘Your intentions are noble, even if your soul is not. I will do my best to assist you.’ Gellert sighed in relief as Scamander finally stepped forwards.

‘His friend was attacked by a dark wizard, one that had previously used Unicorn blood to remain alive. She bit him to save a friends life, and in the process seems to have received some blessing from the Unicorn.’ Scamander explained and the monk turned to him.

‘Ah, Newt, as pure as your companion is dark, I trust the Occamy are well.’ Scamander nodded in confirmation, mentioning quickly that they were flourishing in his home. Then the monk turned to Gellert again. ‘Describe this blessing to me.’

He did so and the monk nodded along seemingly unsurprised by what he was saying.

‘She has indeed received a powerful gift; an ability of the unicorns themselves. She can see into your very soul, your magical essence and see without distraction the truth of what lies within.’

‘And her true sight?’ Gellert demanded impatiently; he already knew this.

‘Her true sight will return in time, as her body becomes used to seeing on the second plane.’ The monk said dismissively. ‘Yet you ask questions to which you already know the answer when you yourself are blessed in the same way. The other unicorns speak of your family, of the herd you provide for and the blessings you receive in return.’

Gellert frowned, losing track of the conversation. ‘My blessings?’ He asked blankly and the monk laughed.

‘Perhaps the details have been lost to time. The same mediations you were taught as a child will hasten the return of her mundane sight. In the mean time, perhaps you should look into your family’s history with my brethren.’

‘Your brethren?’ He asked, still struggling to understand where the conversation had gone.

‘Newt did not inform you. My animagus form is that of a unicorn, a sign of my achievement in purifying my soul.’ The monk laughed, his silvery robe seeming to ripple as his arms grew, his face lengthened and a horn spiralled from his forehead. The laugh ended in a whinny and Gellert stood dumfounded for a moment. Then he laughed, he laughed as he left and the monks looked after him, dumbstruck at the interruption to their peace. He laughed until he could barely breathe, grasping Scamander’s arm and disapparating with a crack, the wards suddenly seeming to have no effect on him.

He was still laughing as they appeared in front of Scamander’s cottage. He had gone all that way, only to discover that he had been sitting on the answer the whole time. His sight had been gifted by the unicorns that were protected at his estate, just as his mother had been gifted, and his grandfather before her. He had learned as a child how to filter the arcane from his vision, and now Hermione would use exactly the same method.


	43. Chapter 43

Hermione was beginning to get used to her new sight; learning to notice what everyone else did and acting accordingly. So she could find her way to the end of term feast easily enough – following the groups of people and copying them every time they climbed stairs, pushed open a door or jumped over a trick step.

She froze at the doorway to the hall, noticing the hushed whispers through the room. It didn’t take long to see why; Gellert sat at the head table next to Dumbledore, his inky black silhouette unmistakable next to the green and red of McGonagall and the rich purple of Dumbledore. The clash of the two opposing magics was so tangible that she was amazed she’d never noticed it before – the gold of Dumbledore and the blue-black of Grindelwald.

Of course, now that the world knew exactly who he was there was little point him pretending to be a student anymore and from the mutterings, most of the students seemed to believe they could have guessed beforehand. She shuffled to the table, the distinctive red of Ron standing out against the more muted colours of their year mates.

Then suddenly she noticed that Gellert was coming towards her, reaching out to assist her to the table. She shrugged his hand off in annoyance; had he been here the past couple of days, he would know that she could find her way to the table with little trouble.

‘What are you back for?’ She demanded quietly, knowing that the whole hall was listening to them.

‘I’ll tell you later.’ He said quickly and she scowled. Harry and Ron shuffled to make room for her, the golden boy to her left passing her a plate of food. Gellert seemed to get the message as the two boys closed up around her that he was not welcome because he moved away back to the head table.

‘What’s he back here for?’ Ron whispered to her, his breath warm against her face. She replied that she didn’t know, stabbing at the plate until she managed to pick something up on her fork. Harry would have already cut it for her, so she lifted it to her mouth, delighted by the fluffy Yorkshire pudding. Her friends must have known she’d need her mood picked up because they’d even made sure it was soaked in gravy.

‘All packed?’ She asked quietly and she felt Harry’s shoulders shift as he shook his head. Then, the boy-who-lived seemed to remember that she couldn’t see him because he verbally denied having packed.

‘I found a communication mirror that Sirius gave me.’ He said by way of explanation and Hermione winced, reaching across to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

‘Dumbledore will get him out soon.’ She knew Harry was trying to remain strong for her, despite his godfather’s return to Azkaban. She was almost ashamed the she’d been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn’t even found out about Sirius’ incarceration until a couple of days ago. Harry was terrified that the dementors would be focusing on Sirius now that their other captives were their allies, particularly considering the torture he had undergone at Bellatrix’s hands.

‘Dunno how Malfoy got away though.’ Ron muttered mutinously and she looked up to see the yellow-green of Malfoy swaggering into the hall. ‘Would have loved to see his face if we’d gotten his dad locked up.’

Hermione had told nobody of how Lucius Malfoy had saved her, meaning that he was outside the anti-apparition wards Dumbledore had set up. She had mumbled something about Dolohov when asked and they had moved onto other topics, which was good because she still hadn’t sorted out her feelings on the matter.

‘At least he can’t take points anymore.’ Harry muttered in return, referring to the demotion of the inquisitorial squad.

‘They’ve won the cup haven’t they?’ she asked, despite already knowing the answer.

‘Slytherin, yes.’ Harry replied, the surprise and realisation in his voice. It must not have occurred to him that she couldn’t see them.

Someone hushed them and Hermione realised with a start that Dumbledore stood at the podium, ready to address them.

She half listened, more interested in watching Gellert behind him, as Dumbledore informed everyone briefly about what had happened at the ministry. They were all awarded points, which felt rather trivial after such an ordeal and Dumbledore clapped his hands, tendrils of his golden magic caressing the ceiling. Boos and cheers filled the hall as Gryffindor was awarded the cup, but Hermione found it tasted a little sour. After all, they’d only ended up in the ministry by breaking a thousand rules, forgetting everything they were supposed to have learned in divination and not to mention, they never would have even escaped Umbridge’s office if the Slytherins hadn’t stunned themselves.

The bitter feeling persisted right up until she climbed about the train. Harry and Ron had made plans to visit the rest of the DA to say goodbye but she had declined, choosing to remain in the compartment when there were less trunks to trip over.

That was how Gellert managed to find her, slipping through the door and locking it behind him with a tendril of wandless magic. She huffed, turning away from him in a less than subtly hint that she didn’t want to talk. He took a seat anyway in the seat opposite.

‘I went to India, to visit someone who could help regain your sight.’ He said abruptly and she glanced at him in surprise.

‘India?’ She asked in confusion.

‘Yes. A monk who has the animagus form of a unicorn.’ He replied and she laughed incredulously, her ire melting away.

‘You should have told me, I thought you’d just left me and broken your promise.’ She scolded.

‘I didn’t want to get your hopes up.’ He was smiling; she could hear it in his voice.

‘Did you find out how?’ She asked, unable to conceal her eagerness. She was learning to live with what she had, but regaining true vision would be a dream come true.

‘I did.’ He confirmed, she gestured for him to continue. ‘You were blessed by the same unicorn that cursed Voldemort.’ He began, launching into an explanation of how he had discovered that like his own sight, what she had now was a blessing that was overpowering her senses. She nodded along eagerly as he explained how simple meditation would teach her to tune in and out of the ‘arcane plane’. What he spoke about was mostly complex, abstract theories but Hermione was enraptured none the less. She would remember every word, then go home and research and practice, until she could see again.

Time must have flown by as he taught her the simple meditations that would begin her journey because they were soon beginning to slow down. He finished his instruction, promising to continue in a couple of weeks.

‘A couple of weeks?’ She demanded, confused. Usually he spent the whole summer with her.

‘Yes, Albus and I have some things to do; the war will escalate now that Voldemort is in the open and the ministry is still looking for me.’ He answered and she nodded as though she understood. She did really, but she had grown so used to his presence during the holidays that it would be strange not to see him.

‘Is there anything I can help with?’ She asked.

‘Keep practicing what I showed you today. When you can read again I have something that might interest you.’ He offered and she grinned, taking his hand as he helped her step down from the train. Then, something occurred to her and her mood dropped like a lead balloon.

‘My parents will be furious.’ She almost sobbed and he sighed.

‘I don’t know how to help with that.’ Gellert’s voice cracked slightly. ‘Come on though. Albus did give me permission to fix one problem.’ He said, sounding significantly more upbeat. She took his offered hand, allowing him to wandlessly levitate her trunk and lead her over to Harry and Ron by the barrier.

The crowd parted around the quartet to let them through, although she didn’t know whether that was because of the trio’s fame or Gellert’s infamy. Either way they were among the first back on the platform. She stopped dead as they passed though, only Gellert’s hand still linked with hers tugging her out the way before the next group came through. The muggles were bland – their silhouettes were the same as a witch or wizard but they didn’t have the sparkle of magic around them.

‘Gellert?’ She whispered, tugging at his hand. ‘How will I find my parents?’

‘I’ll take you to them.’ He replied, ‘but first, come with me.’

He took her after Harry, who had stopped facing three of the most boring people she’d seen. The largest was a flat, muddy dark brown, like swamp water. Next to him, a pale khaki green, stick thin woman stood and fractionally behind her a maroonish lump that was both short and fat. She could only assume they were Harry’s relatives, the Dursleys.

‘Could you spare a moment please?’ Gellert interrupted Mr. Dursley’s sneering welcome of Harry.

‘What do you want?’ The unpleasant man demanded and Hermione could imagine his face getting steadily angrier as he took in Gellert’s strange appearance. She could picture him now, probably wearing a shirt, open at the neck. He might have dispensed with the woollen jacket because the day was particularly hot and rolled up his sleeves, which would make the scar on the back of his hand stand out. His eyes would probably be the biggest affront to Dursley; they just screamed abnormal.

‘I’m just here to introduce myself.’ He replied breezily, clapping Harry on the shoulder in a way that was entirely out of character.

‘We don’t want to be introduced to people like you.’ Mrs Dursley said in a high, nasal voice. Gellert laughed a dark laugh.

‘No, you don’t.’ For a moment there was silence as the Dursleys struggled to understand exactly what was going on. ‘You see, the law has very little effect on what I can and can’t do. In fact, I like to think they’re a little too afraid of me to do anything at all.’ He drawled. Dudley Dursley made a whimpering noise and scuttled to hide his considerable bulk behind his mother. ‘I just thought you’d be interested to know that Harry is a good friend of mine. I do hope you won’t mind him keeping in contact with me.’

They breezed away, Hermione unable to hide her sniggering as Harry began to play along, describing just who Gellert was. It would be good to see Harry have a better summer. She almost forgot about her nerves as they approached a lilac and lime couple until they began calling her name.


	44. Chapter 44

Gellert was rather proud of his self transfiguration – his inched up the cliff face in starfish form, his tentacles suctioning to the rock with a grip that defied the waves which smashed against him with earth shattering booms. It took a long time, but he reached the top and found a ledge that would sufficiently hide him. He transfigured himself back to human, then into a rat and scurried across the island. The rat was faster, but its fur was no protection against the sea spray and the frigid cold of the residual dark magic had his body soon crusted with ice.

He scurried around simple grave stones, avoiding the path as he crossed the space between the sea and the prison. The large portcullis was closed but it posed no obstacle to him in this form, or truly in any other. The trick to this mission though would be to not leave the prison any more vulnerable than it already was.

The warm glow of the patronus indicated the presence of a guard, one among the many that now guarded this place. He paused, shrinking into the shadow and returning to his human form. The patronus was a rooster, which clucked around, pecking at the floor and walls. Trailing behind it was the auror – a man of roughly Gellert’s height with black hair and beard, perhaps of Slavic descent. He would do nicely.

A wordless charm later and the guard crumpled, his patronus fading into nothing. Its absence did not affect Gellert, his own innate darkness in proportion to that of the prison. He levitated the unconscious man into the shadows where he hid, then tore out several hairs to add to his polyjuice. He drank the sienna liquid, grimacing as his features shifted, then transfigured his clothes to match the other man.

Minutes later he was striding out down the corridor as though he was a guard.

The prison was incredibly understaffed; perhaps in peacetime the auror corps had reduced their numbers because back in his day there would have been more than enough to cover this prison and fight the necessary battles. It was an entire dose of polyjuice before he came across another guard, conjuring a ghostly white rooster as they closed on one another. His rooster did nothing to alleviate the residual cold of the dementors but the other guard wouldn’t notice that. They nodded as they passed one another but otherwise continued in silence.

Gellert passed into the high security area, a guard at the checkpoint waving him through with a passing glance. The performance really was quite poor.

He found Sirius Black in one of the topmost cells; the man was a shivering wreck, huddled beneath the robes he had worn on the day he was arrested. He was surrounded by other death eaters, all of whom were as affected by the darkness as Gellert and chatted merrily among themselves. As he strode down the corridor, the conversation turned to leers and the inmates shouted abuse at him, promising that their dark lord would come for them, that he would kill them all. He levelled his wand at one of them; Dolohov had tried to curse Hermione, but first, Lucius had informed him that the man was a brilliant spell crafter.

Grindelwald plunged into the man’s mind, shredding his defences like paper and tearing away the secrets of his dark creations. Yes, that purple spell was rather nice, as was that unfinished white one. Gellert knew exactly how to perfect that one.

When he withdrew, the death eater was little more than a whimpering wreck on the floor. The inmates had gone silent. A flare of violet light later and Dolohov’s blood was soaking the stones.

‘Death eaters...’ He called out to those in the corridor. He waved his wand, removing his disguise so that they could see exactly who he was. ‘You know me as Gellert Grindelwald; a pure blood, head of the ancient house Grindelwald which traces its lineage back to long before Salazar Slytherin.’ He had their attention now, and the familiar words of his doctrine rolled off his tongue, speaking of educating muggle borns and preserving magical blood. He did not expect followers to join him from among this rabble; most of them were too stupid to see reason or mad from decades under the dementors.

Unsurprising nobody pledged allegiance, so he blasted the door of Sirius’ cell and handed the shivering man the wand he’d stolen from the guard downstairs.

‘Grindelwald?’ The man asked curiously and he nodded. Energy seemed to surge through the wizard and he slipped into dog form, the four legs seeming to strengthen him. They were just in time, a shout echoed up the dripping corridors and somewhere an alarm started ringing. Somebody must have come across the unconscious auror.

They jogged down the stairs, Sirius’ claws scratching against the slick stone. Gates were magically slamming shut, but such physical barriers were hardly an obstacle. Gellert slashed his wand through the air as they approached each one, the locks blowing off. They encountered the first guard at the bottom of the stairwell and Sirius pounced, the weight of the large black dog throwing the auror off balance. The two tumbled to the floor in a mess of snapping teeth and claws and the auror’s head hit the stone with a sickening crack. Gellert dragged Sirius out of the tangle by his scruff as he jogged past and they darted down the next flight of stairs.

A purple curse from Gellert’s wand had the auror at the checkpoint falling against his companion, who struggled to catch his petrified teammate before he smashed on the floor. Half a second later both were falling, a last minute cushioning charm preventing any further damage as they whipped around the corner. A blasting hex later and they were dashing through the bottom levels of the prison, Sirius took down another auror and they were out in the fresh air. Gellert skidded to a halt half way between the land and the sea, a stunning spell taking out a pursuing guard.

‘Cover me!’ He bellowed to Sirius, who had also skidded to a halt. The wizard transformed back into a man, his stolen wand already in his hand.

Gellert raised his wand in one arm, an athame in the other. His magic surged outwards in a wave, burrowing down, searching. He found them easily enough; those ancient and terrible wards, cast by Ekrizdis centuries ago. He knew them intimately, having used them as inspiration for the wards upon his old prison. He sliced his palm, blood spraying across the ground as he called for the wards to rise, to imprison, to answer to him.

Sirius Black faltered in his casting, matched by the aurors he duelled. Everyone felt the stirring of the dark, terrible magic beneath them, like an ancient beast waking from a slumber. Gellert felt the wards brush over him, probing his power and testing his control. For a moment there was silence, neither side casting a single spell, waiting as the wards flexed against their new master. They must have found him sufficient, because suddenly they were roaring upwards in a surge of fire, curling over the prison and colliding to complete the dome with a crack of thunder.

Aurors cried out, stumbling back from the wall. One man seemed to recognise the danger of being trapped within and lunged forwards as if to escape. He almost made it, then a tendril licked his leg. He aged before their eyes, mid leap, skin wrinkling, hair greying, muscles atrophying and sucking into his skeleton. Then before their eyes he disintegrated into dust.

Gellert didn’t wait for the flames to fade, grabbing Sirius’ arm with his still bloodied hand and plunging into the sea. He managed to transfigure himself into a fish as they fell; hitting the water on his flat side with a force that felt like it had snapped several ribs. Sirius yelped beside him, in dog form, although how he thought that would help baffled Gellert. Spells zinged around them, hitting the water with bursts of steam. Black seemed to get the idea, quickly transforming back to human and managing to turn into half a shark. He had the head and front fins though, which were the important parts, so the two wizards darted off, fish forms sending them surging through the dark turbulent water and away from the prison.


	45. Chapter 45

Albus Dumbledore looked between the paper spread across his desk and the wizard lounging in the chair opposite him with exasperation and awe. The caption across the top declared loudly to the wizarding world that Gellert Grindelwald had prevented an Azkaban breakout. Carefully selected quotes neglected to mention that it had been Gellert himself who had done the breaking and a rather magnificent photograph showed the dark wizard, arms raised as he controlled a wall of fire. Mentioning that the shadowy figures inside the fire were aurors was also glossed over, as was the fact that only one cell door was actually opened.

He had no idea how Gellert had managed to get Rita Skeeter of all people to publish such a glowing article, then again, truth was not her strong point even at the best of times. He also had no idea how they’d managed to get that particular photograph – he must have tipped the media off in advance.

Albus rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, suppressing a groan.

‘This is not a convenient time to meet, Gellert.’ Albus told him, knowing that the dark wizard couldn’t care less. ‘I have to find a new teacher.’

Then again, it seemed that inconvenient times were the only times Gellert was willing to meet these days. He was constantly off on his own adventures causing equal havoc for both Voldemort and the ministry – there was that duel at the Vance’s which had over a hundred muggles claiming to have seen a glowing purple tiger, but had resulted in the apprehension of two death eaters and the saving of the Vance family. Then there had been another show down between the two dark wizards at the Lestrange Manor in the Hebrides, which had decimated enough of Scotland that the obliviators called in had had to try and convince people it was a freak hurricane – a flimsy excuse at the best of times. Perhaps the only reason they hadn’t taken down the rest of the country was because they’d both had to flee when the aurors showed up in force, they were both fugitives after all. Now this, he’d stolen Azkaban prison.

‘I solved the Sirius Black problem at least. You were getting nowhere with that and Harry was beginning to worry.’ Gellert drawled, taking the paper off his desk and flipping to the second page. “Sirius Black, who has been cleared of all crimes, notified Mr. Grindelwald of the planned breach after being imprisoned by the ministry without trial twice – ‘I knew that Grindelwald would act quickly and decisively.’ Black said when we caught up with him at St. Mungos where he is currently undergoing treatment for the abuse he suffered within the prison.”

Albus sighed again; ‘you were very keen not to alienate the ministry last year.’ He pointed out but Gellert gave him a feral grin.

‘The ministry made themselves look like indecisive fools. Now it is a bad thing to be associated with them.’ The dark wizard flipped to a different page.

‘I have concluded that you are not will do what you want regardless of my wishes. Now I have a new teacher to find after you chased the last one out of my school so spectacularly.’ He had already had an idea as to how to fix that problem, perhaps by taking Severus up on his application. Potions would undoubtedly be easier to fill.

‘Actually, I rather thought I might be able to help with that minor hiccup too.’ Gellert tossed a piece of paper over to him and he caught it reflexively unfolding it to see a single line scrawled on a scrap parchment.

‘You call this a job application?’ Albus asked, shifting his glasses to peer more closely at the words.

‘Well its true isn’t it? I have duelled Voldemort twice, which I believe makes me the only person to have done so.’

It was true, once he thought about it. So far as he was aware nobody else had duelled the dark wizard that many times and survived but he could imagine little worse than having the unruly dark wizard as one of his staff.

‘Have you considered the diplomatic consequences of me knowingly employing a wanted criminal?’

‘Of course. Just tell them that at least this way you can keep me occupied.’ Albus just gaped at him.

‘You honestly think that will work?’

‘Perhaps. You could try.’

‘Very well. I will write some letters.’ He sighed, praying that the international community would protest. He daren’t lie to Gellert and say they had when they hadn’t; for all he knew the dark wizard was reading his mail. No, the dark wizard would not be reading his mail; he would have something on someone somewhere who would be doing it for him.

‘Is there something else?’ Albus asked when Gellert remained seated.

‘I believe I know the location of a horcrux.’ He said, and Albus sat up, his other issues falling suddenly to the wayside.

‘How?’

‘A vision whilst I was in India.’ Albus had no idea when Gellert had visited India, nor did he know what he had been doing there. He was certain the other wizard hadn’t been this slippery when he was at large last time around, even despite Dumbledore’s resources being split. Last time he certainly hadn’t had anywhere near as many resources to call on.

‘India?’ Albus inquired mildly and Gellert just flicked his hand dismissively.

‘India, with Scamander visiting some monk.’ How on earth Gellert had managed to get to Scamander, Albus didn’t know. The last time he had checked, Grindelwald hated the Magizoologist with a passion. At least he knew who the monk they had visited was, although once again, Albus baffled about how he’d managed to speak to the monk – assuming he had or the complaints would have presumably been loudly expressed. That or he would have been reading about the decimation of an Indian monastery in the papers.

‘What have you seen then?’ the headmaster asked.

‘A cave, near the sea.’

‘A cave near the sea.’ Albus said dryly. Of course, that narrowed it down, but not my much. There were hundreds, if not thousands of caves near the sea, a significant number of which had probably never even been mapped.

‘Oh, Albus, you know better than I do how grandiose we dark wizards like to be. Voldemort wouldn’t have just hidden his horcrux in any cave; it will be a sentimental item in a very sentimental place. We just need to figure out which cave he considers personally important.’

A memory of a drunk carer at an orphanage, normal if not for the student he had been there to collect. Her voice drifted through his mind, explaining how a pair of students had never been the same after going exploring in a cave with Tom Riddle. Could the answer really be that simple?

‘I believe I know where it is.’ Excitement unlike anything he had recently experienced coursed though him. ‘Riddle’s orphanage used to take them on outings – to a beach with a cave.’

Gellert nodded appreciatively. ‘Give me the address. I’ll find their records and see if we can’t locate this cave. You see about that DADA position.’


	46. Chapter 46

Hermione hadn’t expected Gellert to show up at all over the holidays, not after seeing what he’d been up to in the papers. She understood that she was one person and Gellert was virtually an army in and of himself; her parents had read the prophet to her every morning. So she knew exactly how Gellert had conjured a tiger and set it loose on a pair of death eaters in London, prevented an Azkaban breakout whilst rescuing Sirius and duelled Voldemort out of Lestrange Manor. She could hardly expect to be a priority. Even so, she had resolved not to be bitter, forcing herself to instead be grateful that he had taken time out of his busy schedule to go all the way to India just to help her.

She had thrown herself into meditating, not just to regain her sight but to hone her gift. Her mother had dutifully recorded everyone’s colours, and Hermione had dictated all the similarities in colours and people. Black was obviously a damaged soul but that was as far as the she had gotten, and obviously colours had no relevance to houses with McGonagall significantly green and Malfoy yellow.

Mediatation was showing better progress – the grey was becoming lighter and if she held something very close to her face she could see a darkness. Her success in the opposite direction had been even more significant; she could see the traces of people’s magic in enchantments. Gellert’s blue-black magic twined heavily through the deathly hallows amulet he’d given her for Christmas, confirming her theory that it wasn’t just a regular piece of jewellery.

Grindelwald knocked on the door, interrupting her latest mediation. She’d been aware of him, hearing her mother let him in and listening to the stairs creak as he climbed up to her room.

‘Hi.’ She said softly, padding across the room to open the door for him. Gellert hovered in the doorway and Hermione was suddenly very aware that she hadn’t redecorated since she was eleven.

‘I have something to do. I thought you might like to come with me.’ He offered, holding out one inky hand to her.

‘Where to?’ She asked uncertainly.

‘We need to find where a certain orphanage took their children for summer. Albus and I believe Voldemort may have hidden something there.’ He answered, still holding out that hand. She was touched that he’d thought to take her with him; she couldn’t go out anymore unless there was someone to take her and her parents worked full time.

She took his offered hand, surprised when he shifted her grip to his arm. She barely had a moment to take a breath before it was being squeezed out of her as though she were deep underwater without a mask. His arm twisted away from her and she clung on tightly, instinctively knowing that letting go would be a very bad idea.

Then it was over as soon as it had begun and she could breathe again, a cool breeze brushing her face and the sound of cars droning in a nearby road. She managed to maintain her balance by hanging tightly onto his arm, surprised when he offered his other hand as well.

‘We just apparated, didn’t we?’ asked Hermione shakily.

‘We did. Was that your first time?’ He settled her hand on his arm in that traditional way where her hand rested in the crook of his elbow. She stifled a giggle, feeling rather silly and girlish – it was difficult to remember that Gellert was being completely serious when he did these things.

He led her a little way down the street, a gentle pressure on her hand telling her when to stop.

‘Are we here?’ She asked curiously, his silence telling her that this would not be as easy as she had hoped.

‘I think our orphanage has been knocked down. There’s an office block, perhaps 20 years old with that awful brown gravelly cladding.’ He described. Hermione could picture exactly what he was looking at, having seen many of that description around the city. ‘There’s an old lady working in her garden just down the street, perhaps she can help.’

The friendly lady was only too happy to tell them everything she knew once Gellert had spun their sob story, although Hermione struggled to hide her distaste when he claimed they were looking for information on her grandfather. The lady invited them in, her home smelling of musty curtains and tea tree, Gellert guided her to an overstuffed armchair, then took a seat nearby. Moments later, she heard the clinking of china as a pot of aromatic tea was brought in and papery skin brushed against hers as the lady guided her hands to the teacup and a plate of biscuits.

She listened as the lady related everything she knew about the orphanage and Mister Wool who had owned it and how when Mister Wool had died nobody had wanted to run it. She listened to how terrible it was that Mr Wool’s son had knocked down the old building and put those awful offices there. When Gellert asked her who the matron was, the lady was only able to tell them her name and that she had retired once the place was shut down. Hermione could only think of the children that must have lived there and how terrible it would be to be kicked out at the whim of some landowner.

Gellert seemed to take this as a dead end, she could almost hear him thinking through other methods of learning the information even as he spoke aimlessly about the council picking up the bins.

‘Mrs. Mills?’ Hermione asked tentatively, trying not to wince when the lady immediately began to fawn over the poor blind girl. Gellert had created her part to make the mission easier, so now she had to play it. ‘Would you happen to have a white pages?’

After much praising of how clever she was, Gellert was soon flicking through the crinkly thin pages of a slightly out of date copy of the phone directory. There were three Rosemary Holloways in London, and Gellert noted down all their addresses, then they were being shooed out, the old lady handing them a biscuit to take with them and waving them off down the street.

As soon as they had rounded the corner and were out of sight, Gellert apparated them to the first place on the list. Hermione kept her balance this time, having known what to expect. They must be somewhere in the suburbs; the cars were much quieter and she could smell flowers around them. She stood on soil or grass, which was slightly spongy beneath her feet. She heard Gellert mutter a curse, followed by a gentle confundus charm. They must have been spotted by a muggle.

‘Funny light in this alley.’ A man muttered, the scuff of trainers on gravel starting up again as he jogged past them.

42, Penrose Street had a gate which creaked softly, then a path that led up a couple of steps to the door. A water feature tinkled somewhere nearby and their neighbours had a dog. A young woman, carrying a baby emerged from off to their right, using a path from where she assumed would be a back garden.

‘Who are you?’ She demanded, hostility blatant in her tone. The baby was a ball of bright yellow in her lime arms, a magical aura already surrounding it. Hermione realised with considerable surprise that she was looking at a very young muggleborn.

‘Hi, I’m Hermione. I was actually trying to track down someone who worked at my grandfather’s orphanage. You wouldn’t know a Rosemary would you?’

The young mother told them, with no small amount of irritation that she was Rosemary and she had certainly never worked in an orphanage. The baby began to wail and they left hastily, going to the next house on the list.

This one was on a busy street, cars roaring past them. Gellert helped her up the steep stairs to the address, a pleasant sounding doorbell chiming as he pressed the button. The lady at the door certainly wasn’t young, by her voice, and was almost certainly a smoker. A heavy odour of stale cigarettes washed through the doorway but the welcome that was croaked at them was at least tentatively friendly.

This was their Rosemary Holloway, she recalled the orphanage fondly having worked there for over thirty years, first as a matron, then running it for the rest of career. She remembered Tom Riddle only briefly, as a name in passing, often mentioned by the other matrons because of that strange school he’d been to. Rosemary was only too happy to tell them that the village they usually visited on holiday was called Ogmore-By-Sea.

Apparently there were hundreds of caves near there, but Gellert didn’t seem at all daunted by that, bidding farewell to Rosemary and apparating them to Wales. Perhaps it was due to so many apparitions in such a short period but Hermione was beginning to feel decidedly queasy.

‘How will we know which cave?’ Hermione asked as Gellert led her up an almost silent little street. A brisk breeze whipped her hair around her face and sent her skirt billowing around her legs.

‘It will be the ones the muggles have forgotten about.’ He replied jovially, turning them aside and into a building she could recognise by the sound alone. The gentle hush was one of people trying to be quiet rather than of absence and the warmth that you could only find in a library, paired with the faint scent of plastic covers overlaying well loved paper. Gellert took them up to the desk, asking the lady if there was an old map of caves along the coast.

There was, several options in fact. He asked to see all of them.

‘Riddle will have cast all kinds of charms on the cave; the chances are the muggles will have noticed the difference, without actually noticing it.’ Gellert explained, falling silent as the librarian returned with several fusty smelling books.

‘This one here is a military map from the 1940’s. The army surveyed the cave system thoroughly then to use should the Germans invade.’ She unrolled the paper, dust wafting into the air and Hermione coughed. ‘This next one is a 1960’s, by a group prospectors searching for copper.’ She opened a book this time, flicking through pages until she reached what was presumably their area. ‘This chapter covers the town, you’ll find the other chapters move up and down the coast.’ The next book was a modern tour guide, and the lady didn’t bother to explain that one, just leaving them be.

‘Obliviate.’ Gellert said, jabbing his wand in her direction. Then he swept up all the materials and stood up.

‘You’re stealing them!’ Hermione hissed, outraged as the dark wizard went to leave. He let his head fall back, perhaps forgetting that she could still see his silhouette and sighed.

‘You can’t honestly expect me to study them all here? The librarian won’t even remember they’re missing.’ He didn’t even seem to understand what the problem was.

‘These are important documents to this town.’ She went to storm over to him but clipped the table, swearing and cluthing her bruised hip, her face burning.

‘Honestly, nobody’s looked at them in years.’ He dismissed, swanning out of the library. She felt blindly for the edge of the table, guiding herself around it and hurrying after him.

‘It’s not right.’ She insisted as she caught up with him. He flicked his hand and a tendril of his black magic fried the detectors at the door. ‘Those will be really expensive to replace too! Gellert you can’t just do that.’

‘Fine, I’ll return them once I’m done.’ He snapped, grabbing her arm and apparating before she could say another word. She gasped for breath when they landed, pinching the stitch that had developed in her side.

‘That doesn’t make up for the machinery you just destroyed. You could have just asked to borrow them!’

‘They’ll manage.’ He said bluntly. ‘Thank you for your assistance.’

Gellert strode from the room without another word, leaving Hermione seething in her room. She took her flip-flops off, hurling them across the room in frustration. They hit the wall with a dissatisfying thud.


	47. Chapter 47

He knew exactly where to find the horcrux; a cave just around the point from the main beach near Ogmore-By-Sea. The cave had been extensive in the research done during 1941, reaching several hundred meters back into the cliff. Then, in the 1960’s version the cave was a couple of meters at most, the exploring muggles commenting on the ‘miserable feeling’ inside with no associated record of a cave-in or change to the topography of the land above. The obvious conclusion was that the cave had been magically concealed from muggles, and a quick apparition test, whereupon he appeared on a rocky stack about a hundred meters offshore proved the theory correct.

Albus agreed, but they decided, at least temporarily to leave the item where it sat. There was no sense in alerting Riddle to them being on to his secret, lest he decide to pursue more reliable methods of immortality. Particularly as in light of Gellert’s achievement with the stone, it would be clear to the other dark wizard that there were alternative routes.

Meanwhile, as Gellert had been researching the cave, Albus had been delving into the backstory of Lord Voldemort, already aware that he was proud of his lineage as heir of Slytherin. It was laughably easy to discover the identity of his parents – the purebloods had tracked and traced every family member ever born. The Gaunts were the last true heirs, whose daughter had gone missing and whose son had been put in Azkaban for the murder of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. It wasn’t too difficult to deduce exactly who was Voldemort’s father once that name came to light.

So Albus had located the Gaunt home and the two wizards apparated to the edge of town. It was a sunny Tuesday, only a week before the end of the Summer holidays, at which point it would become considerably more difficult for Gellert to wreak havoc, considering his new job as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It had been hilarious to watch Albus’ face as the headmaster was forced to inform Gellert that the ICW were more than happy to have him employed under Albus. In fact, the international community was happy to finally know exactly where he was and what he was up to, and that he was temporarily under the supervision of his only potential equal. They had even admitted they had no hope of capturing him, which had made him feel rather smug. He’d raided a death eater gathering at Nott house in celebration.

Little Hangleton was a quaint town, idyllically unaware of just how central they were to the current conflict. Only one or two cars were parked on the street; there being little space for any more between the slate tiled houses. There was little to see, a seedy looking pub with a single patron outside and a woman walking a splotched brown dog around a pond. The church was stubby with no spire but the graveyard was unusually large, a gleaming white war memorial with a handful of names looking incredibly out of place in front of the squat, dark building.

Overshadowing the town was a large, derelict manor. The windows were boarded up and the garden had gone wild over summer, despite having been expertly cared for once. The topiarys had just begun to lose their shape, giving the fanciful horses that flanked the gates a greenish fuzz. A quick alohomora unlocked the gates, which made an ear splitting scream as they opened. Both wizards winced and breathed in to slip through the narrowest possible gap.

The house was booby trapped – minor jinxes and hexes, among which was hidden the occasional nasty one but nothing the two explorers couldn’t handle. The interior had been nowhere near as well maintained as the exterior, with peeling wall paper and mouldy curtains. They padded through every room, casting revealing charms but finding nothing but a shed snake skin. That was unsurprising though, they hadn’t expected to find anything here.

They left with as little fanfare as they had arrived, slipping back out through the gate and inching it shut behind them.

This time they went a different route through the village, pausing at a little village shop for Albus to purchase a hard muggle caramel called ‘Werther’s Originals.’ The shop owner looked surprised and suspicious when they entered, although he could hardly be blamed when Albus had chosen to wear a pair of chequered dungarees in place of his usual bright robes.

Then, sucking on the sweets, the two wizards made their way up an overgrown path to the tree line opposite the manor. The shack was nestled in under a large oak, covered in a thick layer of moss and bramble that made it almost invisible unless you knew what you were looking for. The two wizards paused, surveying the seemingly innocent little ruin.

‘Are there any muggles around?’ Albus asked, looking left and right although any might have heard and suddenly appear.

‘Who cares?’ dismissed Gellert, already waving his hands in the air and feeling for wards. ‘There’s a lot of magic warding this place.’

‘Do you want to do the honours?’ The headmaster asked, feeling for the same. It briefly occurred to Gellert that if there were any muggles around, they’d look like right idiots; an old man in chequered dungarees and a teenager waving their arms around in front of their faces in the middle of the woods.

‘Very well.’ He nodded in agreement, then made a tearing motion with one hand, as though he were pulling a blanket from a piece of unused furniture. There was an ear splitting screech, and the door flew off its hinges. Splinters of rotten wood rained over the two wizards, impacting with small fizzing sounds on the shield Albus had erected over them both.

‘Well that was rather novice.’ Gellert commented dryly, then paused. A shape was moving within the shack, something that shuffled and clicked as it moved. The thing came into sight briefly, then seemed to shy away, preferring the heavy shadows of the shack to the dappled light of the woods.

‘There’s an inferius in there.’ Albus commented and Gellert rolled his eyes.

‘As I said; all rather novice.’

‘What would you have done, old friend?’ Albus asked as the two of them cautiously approached the shack.

‘I would have hidden the whole building. Perhaps some blood magic, none of you light types would know what to do with it, and lots of inferi; hundreds of them.’ He laughed, sending a beam of light through the doorway. A hiss from inside told them he’d hit the inferius but not killed it.

‘I see.’ Albus peered through the doorway, then leapt back as the inferius swatted at him. ‘I can’t see the blasted thing.’ He grumbled.

‘Let’s just burn the whole shack down. It wouldn’t be a bad thing if we got the horcrux in the process.’ Gellert suggested, his wand poised for fiendfyre.

‘I suppose. Do you want me to deal with the muggles then?’ Albus raised his own wand, casting a muggle repelling charm over the area as fire began to stream in ribbons from Gellert’s own. The cursed fire leapt at the derelict house, greedily lighting the dead bracken and roaring up into the rafters. Albus hastily summoned a breeze to disperse the smoke as the inferius began to screech before it’s voice faded to a gargle.

For a moment the fire burned in silence, apart from the snapping jaws of a dragon as it ate a snake. Then came a different sound, this one a horrific, unearth screeching and black smoke poured up out of the building. The cannibalistic animals lost interest in one another, converging upwards on the smoke, singing the trees around them. Gellert let them go, trusting Albus to extinguish the branches that caught alight as his fiery chimera’s jaws closed on the black mist. There was one last, agonised screech and then the mist was gone. Gellert extinguished the fire, forcing the animals to eat one another until only a single one remained, which sucked back into his wand with a sound like a balloon deflating.

Albus used his wand to hose down the building, extinguishing the natural fire that remained, crackling merrily among the rafters. Steam hissed into the air, dispersed by a quick breeze from Gellert’s wand.

The two wizards stood in silence for a moment, observing the remains.

‘Shall we see what we just destroyed?’ Albus asked, walking through the gap where the door had stood.

The cursed fire had left only the stone shell of the building, stripped bare of anything that might once have been inside, only a couple of puddles of molten metal remaining where he assumed metal implements had once stood. Nothing remained of the inferius, but there was a rectangular cavity beneath where floorboards had presumably been, about the size of an inferius. Gellert peered into the dark hole, lighting his wand so that he could see the puddle of gold in the bottom – perhaps it had been a piece of jewelry, an heirloom. A glint caught his eye and he reached for the strange object, pausing at the last moment. He quickly cast a couple of diagnostic spells, and was suddenly grateful that he hadn’t touched anything. It was a curse he had heard of, but only well enough to know that it was slow acting and had no cure, which was something he had never had time for.

He cast a couple of counter curses, unsurprised when none of them worked. He would have to research this one. Albus peered curiously over his shoulder.

‘Have we destroyed it?’

‘Yes, but there’s something else down there, a powerful magical artefact with a dark curse; I am not familiar with the countercurse.’ He answered, levitating the little stone out. His breath caught in his chest as soon as he laid eyes upon it. He heard Albus’ sharp intake from behind him and knew that the other wizard had seen the same symbol.

‘Do you think he knew what this is?’ Albus murmured incredulously, reaching out to touch it, then pulling back at the last moment, remembering the curse.

‘I can’t imagine he would have just left it here if that was the case.’

‘Perhaps it didn’t work for him.’ Gellert theorised, ‘the legend suggests that it brings back those you love.’

‘And Riddle loved no one.’ Albus finished, summoning a stick from outside and transfiguring it into a wooden box. The light wizard layered it with protective charms, then handed it to Gellert, who carefully lowered the stone inside and shut the lid with a snap.

‘I will remove the curse, then you may as well have it.’ He said, slipping the box into his pocket. ‘I have nobody to bring back, so there is little point in me keeping it.’

‘I’ll leave it to you in my will none the less.’ Albus offered him a genuine smile, and Gellert stood, stretching.

‘I think we should leave a surprise for Voldemort, should he ever feel the need to check his horcrux.’ The dark wizard suggested with a dark smile.

‘I suppose. What would you suggest?’


	48. Chapter 48

She could see – not far and all the colours looked bleached but she could see. It had been a bit of a eureka moment when she discovered the layers , understanding for the first time what Gellert had been talking about. They were like filters on a camera, as though she could wipe away the fog and see again. There was still fog to be wiped, and if she lost concentration it would take a while to wipe it all away again but she could see!

On the day their results were due to arrive she shut herself in her room and meditated for hours until her vision was clearer than it had been for weeks. Only when someone knocked on the door to tell her to come down did she rise and join the others.

Her letter sat on the clock – which apparently only didn’t read mortal peril when Gellert or Dumbledore was visiting. One of the two must have been around somewhere because all the hands currently pointed to home. She could hear voices from the living room, so she picked up the piece of parchment and joined them.

Fleur was doing her usual hypnotism of all the men; Ron was practically drooling but given her new talent that didn’t surprise her, she had learned that people with red in their soul tended to be very emotional. Harry was about as effected as he usually was, occasionally casting the witch a glance. Gellert, to the contrary, lounged casually against the fireplace, a letter hanging in his left hand, his wand in his right. He seemed entirely unaffected by the part-veela, which she found gratifying. At least one man wasn’t only interested in beauty.

She joined Gellert at the fireplace, and Ginny counted down excitedly, then they all opened their letters. The single sheet listed the possible results, which she barely even skimmed over. The bottom of the page was dedicated to her results. She stared at the page, dumbstruck for a moment; nine Os stared back at her, the only E for DADA. Gellert peered over her shoulder, quietly congratulating her, she didn’t need to look at his to know that he had straight Os, but that was hardly unexpected considering he was well beyond what one would consider OWL level.

‘We’d better work on that score this year?’ He joked, taking her results and handing them to the waiting Mrs Weasley.

‘You’re coming back?’ She asked eagerly. He just smiled mysteriously, clearly not planning to tell her. Then he was gone, and she didn’t even hear of him in the papers. She would have thought him dead if not for the lack of news on that front too.

The papers were full of bad news otherwise – Ollivander, the ice cream shop owner, Igor Karkaroff joined the ever growing list of missing, presumed dead. She scoured the paper for news every morning, not sure what she hoped to see.

The Hogwarts letters arrived the day after Harry’s birthday, and once again she had been meditating so that she could read her own.

‘There’s no DADA book in here!’ Ron exclaimed, having a much shorter list than her own.

‘What?’ exclaimed Harry, and Hermione checked her own list too. It contained the usual standard book of spells, a new potions book and another runes text, but true to Ron’s word, no DADA book.

‘You don’t think he didn’t manage to get a teacher, do you?’ Ron whispered ominously.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Ronald.’ Mrs. Weasley snapped, snatching his letter.

‘I haven’t got one either.’ Ginny noted from across the room. ‘Maybe he’s just a practical teacher?’ She added quickly, seeing Molly’s look.

‘Well, either way, the car will be here soon. Quick, grab your things!’

The car was there soon, but by that point Hermione’s vision was beginning to fade again. She took a seat in the car as the others packed in around her, she took the opportunity to meditate for a bit, clearing away some of the fog. She roused herself when everyone started to get out, then froze in the door, her legs hanging over the gutter.

‘Gellert!’ She exclaimed happily, he smiled at her. His hair was paler, she noticed, closer to how it had been when older... or younger... before he went to prison. His cheeks were hollowed slightly and he had dark shadows under his eyes, as though he had hardly slept.

‘We didn’t think you’d be the security.’ She couldn’t believe she’d missed Hagrid, massive as he was, standing off to the side.

‘Are you here for Harry’s security too?’ She asked, and he shook his head.

‘No, I’m here to visit the book shop.’

She laughed, suspecting he was lying. Perhaps he hadn’t been asked to come by Dumbledore but he was certainly not here to visit the book shop at coincidently the exact same time as they were.

They took up the rear, following the others through the bar. Tom the barman looked up hopefully when he saw Hagrid enter, then shrank back to cleaning glasses when he saw Gellert accompanying them. The dark wizard’s image was well known now – some reporter had managed to find a photograph taken at school, perhaps by one of the Creeveys and it had been published next to every story that mentioned him.

The archway was already open by the time they managed to cram into the small alleyway behind the pub, so Hermione didn’t see the changes in the alley straight away. In fact, their group was so large that she didn’t notice anything different until Gellert stopped suddenly. A weedy looking wizard was shaking a handful of amulets in Ginny’s face, a sign nailed to his ramshackle little booth claimed that they were effective against werewolves, dementors and inferi.

Gellert stepped up to the stall with deadly grace, selecting an amulet with a gem that could have come from a child’s beaded bracelet.

‘Do you have a name?’ He purred. The group fell deadly silent. Mr. Weasley, who had been in the middle of puffing up his chest for action, froze.

The man didn’t answer, perhaps realising something wasn’t quite going to plan.

‘Another question then; do you believe this amulet will protect you?’ The amulets in the seller’s hands were shaking.

‘Do any of you believe these wares will protect you?’ He turned, calling out to the street at large. The few wizards that had been hurrying around doing their shopping shrank into the background, perhaps recognising who stood, arms widespread as he addressed the sellers in the street. One man desperately tried to diapparate, spinning on his heel, he looked like he was gone, then suddenly he reappeared with an ungodly scream.

‘Ah ah, You aren’t going anywhere. I want to know what you have to say.’ He’d cast a wandless anti-dissapparition charm, she cowered back with the others, terrified of the man who suddenly seemed an awful lot like Voldemort.

‘Nothing? You see, it is men like you that bring our society down; cowards, thieves, liars.’

Finally one of the men cracked, stumbling out from behind his stall. ‘We’re making people feel safe.’

‘You are making them think they are safe when they are not.’ Grindelwald threw his arm out down the street, as if he was tossing a ball. Metal caught fire, melting in ribbons of red and orange, igniting every surface it touched. The vendors screamed, scrambling out from behind their booths, shedding bracelets and necklaces from blistering skin. Hermione whimpered, covering her ears and the sound seemed to surprise Gellert, he looked back to her and his incredible, awe inspiring magic faltered fractionally.

‘If I see you again, I will not be so lenient. Leave.’ A last, powerful surge of fire blazed through each stall, disintegrating them to little more than ashes. The vendors didn’t waste a moment, disapparating with sharp cracks. Gellert’s fires winked out with a pop, then he disappeared with little more. For a moment silence reigned across the alley, then further down the alley a shopper came out from behind a barrel at the apothecary. Seeing no harm come to him, others followed, hurrying about their shopping in silence, without looking up.

Mrs. Weasley bustled them all to their feet without a word, and they hurried to get their robes measured whilst the others went to get potion ingredients. There was another nasty surprise when they entered Madam Malkin’s; Malfoy was in there getting his robes measured. He sneered at them but otherwise did nothing, just continued rifling through winter cloaks. He pulled a particularly fine one out from the rack and held it up towards the window. It was a women’s cut, an intricate silver clasp at the throat.

‘Mr Malfoy, we’re ready for you.’ Madam Malkin called, bustling out from a back room, Narcissa Malfoy ghosting after her. Malfoy went to step up to the stood, then his mother sent him a severe, significant look with a jerk of her head in Hermione’s direction.

‘Please, ladies first.’ The young scion gestured smartly to Hermione and she froze. Uncertainly, she stepped up to the stool, amazed when she was allowed to stand. When she looked back to Malfoy, he had disappeared into the men’s department. The two boys were sending her terrified looks. She fidgeted so much whilst Madam Malkin measured her that the usually good tempered witch eventually snapped at her to hold still. She escaped as soon as she was done, scampering outside to meet Hagrid and escape the oppressive stares Harry and Ron were sending her way.

Hagrid’s conversation was always reliably safe – they spoke for a while about Buckbeak and how the thestrals were coming along. He mentioned that Aragog was growing old and that his family were getting restless. She swiftly changed the subject, instead asking how the pumpkin seedlings had taken. They were still talking about it when Harry and Ron emerged, not talking about some argument they’d had with Malfoy whilst she was outside.

‘Malfoy?’ Hagrid asked gruffly, apparently unaware that they had even been inside. She couldn’t help the stray thought that he was as bad at guarding as he was at teaching.

Her vision was going fuzzy again by the time they reached the book shop, so she rushed ahead of the others, hoping to gather some books for her own reading before she couldn’t read at all.

She was squinting at the blurb on a transfiguration text when Gellert’s voice made her jump almost out of her skin, only a long history of library time stopping her screaming.

‘This one will be helpful for your defence class this year.’ She held one hand to her heart, the other taking the book he offered her. She took a step back from his to read the title, surprised that it was an entirely theoretical book, based around the most forbidden arts.

‘I’m not like you, this is disgusting.’ She spat, thrusting it back to him. He caught it, and she imagined hurt flashing through those mismatched eyes. Her vision was fading fast, the dark and twisted mess of his soul overlaying his surface form.

‘I know you’re not. This book contains a considerable amount about defeating the undead.’ He turned away, cradling the book. She blinked some of the fog away, catching sight of the other book he carried, she had seen it before on Dumbledore’s desk, a book on incredibly advanced warding. The kind of warding that one only found on old buildings whose owners had the money or connections to hire a wardbuilder. Fog clouded her vision again and she blinked quickly, spinning away to face the shelves again. She felt him leave, walking away down the aisle of books.

Harry found her several minutes later in the divination section, completely lost with no eyesight, panicking too much to meditate because she was afraid of getting left behind. He gently led her back to the familiar colours of the Weasleys, who were panicking almost as much as she was. Mrs. Weasley wrapped her into a smothering hug, then they bustled out, assuring her that her Hogwarts books had already been bought. She should have questioned it then, but she didn’t. She didn’t question it until she got home and found that brilliant warding book among her school books, and at the bottom of the pile, a thick tomb on the undead, bound in black and silver with an ominous skull embossed onto the cover, that went into great detail about everything to do with defending against Necromancers, from burial rites to banishing. There were charms that worked against inferi, wards against poltergeists and tips for dealing with pesky skeletons. She learned more brilliant spells from those two books than her others combined.


	49. Chapter 49

He violently quashed those squirming feelings he’d come to know as remorse, with their accompanying pains. He had done what needed to be done in the alley; people like that only responded to fear and some ministry official telling them to move on would keep them away only until his back was turned.

Hermione had made her thoughts explicitly clear in the book shop, so he’d imperiused some second year into dropping off all her books, as well as some galleons to Mrs. Weasley, who had readily believed Hermione was still browsing and left them to their business. His fingers brushed the hallows necklace around his neck, the twin letting him know that Hermione was safely on the Hogwarts express. He shook himself, then returned to his book. He drummed his fingers against the desk, his gaze wandering again. Perhaps he should do a recap on resisting the imperius? That was particularly important these days, then again casting an unforgivable really was not a good first impression on his students. Hermione would like something advanced and useful; wandless magic! He hestitated, realising that the students would be nowhere near that level yet, so perhaps they could start with wordless and work up to a wandless summoning charm by the end of the year.

The first years wouldn’t be able to do that yet though, perhaps he should cover shield charms, make sure everyone knew a good one of them on the first lesson, then progress to wordless for the older students. He chucked down his quill and strode from his new Hogwarts chambers.

Albus was seated at his desk and seemed unsurprised when Gellert stormed in.

‘I thought you’d be coming here soon; the portraits have been complaining about your mood for days.’ The other wizard commented.

‘I want to get that other horcrux.’ He demanded. Albus merely chuckled, which riled Gellert up even more. His magic was itching, his wand was itching.

‘The students will be here in a couple of hours. I really must be here to greet them.’ He said benignly. Gellert growled at him, grabbed his arm and dragged him out of his seat. Albus struggled briefly before recognising that Gellert’s younger body gave him the inevitable advantage. ‘I really must be back in time for the feast’ he protested weakly as the dark wizard threw open the doors to the balcony. Whatever other protests he made were lost as Gellert threw them both off the balcony. They freefell for several seconds, then both wizards manipulated the air around them so that they drifted to a gentle landing in the courtyard.

‘That’s one way to get me out of my office, I suppose.’ Albus grouched, never the less following Gellert down the path and away from the castle. They disapparated from the gates to the cave, arriving precariously perched on the rocky outcrop.

‘You know, last time we duelled, I witnessed Voldemort fly without a broomstick.’ Gellert commented, looking down at the water beneath him.

‘Just turn yourself into a fish.’ Albus dismissed, knowing that Gellert was wishing he didn’t have to swim.

‘How about you become a fish, I’ll be a seal.’ He sneered, transfiguring himself into an icy blond seal. Albus soon joined him and both seals slithered their way down the rocks to the waterline. With his thick skin, the water temperature wasn’t so bad and the powerful fins of this body made the swim fast and almost enjoyable. He reached the cave well before Albus, who’s transfiguration certainly hadn’t made him any younger, and consequently had already found the blood magic seal on the entrance. By the time Albus had regained his feet, albeit with a sealskin robe instead of his silk summer one, Gellert had already pulled out his athame and drawn a slice across his hand. Blood dripped onto the stone – once, twice, three times, before Gellert healed his hand with a quick flick of his wand.

An archway burned silver in the wall, the rock within fading to blackness. The two wizards edged through, wands lit. They stood in a massive cavern on a thin ledge between the wall and a lake, something green glowed faintly in the distance, perhaps in the middle of the lake. Gellert raised his wand, casting a summoning charm.

Something leapt from the lake, dark and glistening it arched up into the air, before landing with a wet slap. Water sprayed into the air around it and wave washed through the room. The light from Albus’ wand briefly illuminated the packed, pale bodies in the water.

‘I believe you said blood magic and a lot of inferi?’ Albus joked, referring to how Gellert had suggested he’d hide a horcrux.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, that was hardly blood magic on the entrance.’ He sniffed. ‘Besides, I certainly wouldn’t have left it _glowing_.’ He gestured vaguely to the light in the middle of the lake. ‘Nor would I have left a boat.’ He commented sourly as Albus pulled on an invisible chain.

‘Ah Gellert, but you have recognised the might of other wizards. I suspect Voldemort believed only himself a great enough wizard to be able to use it.’ Albus inspected the boat suspiciously, as though he too believed that Voldemort couldn’t have seriously left it there as a means for safe passage.

‘I suspect it is only big enough for one though, magically. Certainly not the both of us.’ Gellert commented after completing his own inspection.

‘Perhaps you should come back with Hermione, her power will be insignificant next to yours.’

‘Hermione will not come with me.’ Gellert snapped, irrationally angry at the headmaster for mentioning her.

‘Ah, I see the cause of your mood. What did you do?’ Albus was as infuriatingly calm as usual.

‘What makes you think I did anything?’ He muttered mutinously.

‘Do you know, Gellert, why I wear these robes?’ the light wizard asked, spreading his arms. Gellert looked at the seal skin.

‘Because its damned cold and your silk ones wouldn’t have lasted five minutes?’ He answered insolently and Albus chuckled. ‘Fine, because it makes you look like a doddering old fool?’

‘Exactly! You are a master of propaganda my friend, but you miss the intricacies of human relationships. People only look for such exceptional magical strength in a leader during war, at almost any other time they find it intimidating.’ Albus explained, as though speaking to a child.

‘She is hardly afraid.’ Gellert muttered, Hermione’s voice calling him disgusting was still crystal clear in his memory.

‘Not of you, my friend, but what you are capable of.’

‘You speak from experience.’

‘I do.’ The two wizards stood either side of the little glowing boat, inferi drifting in the murky depths below them. Gellert’s lips quirked as he realised there were far more appropriate locations to have this conversation.

‘Will you return with Harry?’ He asked, changing the subject.

‘What do you think would be best?’ Albus replied to him, giving him a significant look. He considered the options, allowing his sight to provide the consequences of each action.

‘If I come with Hermione and Harry.’ He finally answered, watching as Hermione caught Harry’s hand just before it touched the water. ‘There’s some horrible potion in there.’

They hid the boat again, then Gellert resealed the cave behind them, sneering impressively as he rebuilt the blood ward.

They arrived back at Hogwarts just in time to catch the first of the carriages from the station.


	50. Chapter 50

Gellert was sitting at the staff table, which was inevitably the first place everyone looked when they arrived in the hall. The question of DADA had been buzzing around the train for the whole trip, and now they could only assume that the post had been filled by Gellert. She could hear the mixed emotions in the murmuring, some people thought it would be great because he was a powerful wizard, others were concerned that he’d be teaching them dark magic and others still were afraid that he’d practice dark magic on them. From what she gathered, everyone would be handing in their homework on time atleast. Her own opinion was certainly mixed; he was without doubt a powerful and knowledgeable wizard, but he also didn’t classify between dark and light which meant she worried about the subject matter that he would teach.

She took a seat with Ron, then fixed on the students still flooding in. She had expected Harry to be here already, having been late to the carriages. She felt Gellert’s eyes on her and looked up to the table to see him lean towards Professor Dumbledore and whisper something. The headmaster’s eyes darted over to her too and he said something in reply, then Gellert stood and strode from the hall.

He returned soon after the sorting, a bloody Harry and a fiercely scowling Snape in tow, in fact, Hermione was certain she’d never seen him look quite so sour before. Harry had a manic grin on his face as he took a seat next to Hermione.

‘Gellert threatened Snape!’ he exclaimed as soon as he sat down, ‘told him that if he didn’t let me take potions, he’d oust his secret to the death eaters.’

‘What secret d’you think he’s talking about?’ Ron asked eagerly. Harry claimed to not know, but Hermione could tell he was lying.

‘You don’t think he’d tell them Snape’s working for the order do you? Hermione asked nervously, looking up at the high table.

Dumbledore and Gellert were talking again, McGonagall listening in but most of the other teachers were either studiously ignoring his presence or shooting him blatantly terrified glances. Even Trelawney was present, which would have garnered more attention had Grindelwald not also been sitting at the table.

The hall fell silent when Dumbledore stood, the announcements the same as every other year. He introduced Gellert, which garnered the usual polite applause. The dark wizard didn’t even look up from where he had somehow managed to save a generous slice of chocolate gateau.

‘I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe.’ Dumbledore continued. Gellert was paying attention now though, although that was perhaps that was because he’d picked the cherry off the top of his cake and was slowly nibbling bits off it. ‘The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours.’ Harry was glaring across the hall at Malfoy, who was levitating his spoon and not paying any attention to Dumbledore either. ‘I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety.’ Professor Dumbledore finished and the students climbed to their feet with a rumble of voices.

Hermione’s second lesson was Defence Against the Dark Arts, she wouldn’t say she dawdled on the way there, just that she took the time to check the homework they had been assigned for Runes. The door had just opened when she arrived, so she filed in behind the rest of the students.

It was surprisingly normal inside. She wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected – perhaps some Germanic castle or a dungeon. Instead, the room was decorated almost entirely in the same way as it had been when Lockhart was here, although now the portraits were all of various famous witches and wizards. Gellert leant against his desk, wand tapping his thigh as he counted them in. Once everyone was in, he waved his hand and the door shut with a gentle click.

‘Welcome to sixth year Defence.’ Gellert began, ‘you have probably heard many different things about me, I doubt even half of them are true.’ He flicked a hand at the chalk board and a stick levitated over the board, poised to copy down as he dictated.

‘Those who delve deeply into the dark arts are often those who are willing to push the boundaries, to use magic to its full extent, so by its nature they are ever changing. If you hope to defend yourself against them, you must be equally as fluid.’

Students watched him warily, wondering perhaps where he was going with this. What was he going to teach them without books?

‘I will not teach you many spells, instead, I will teach you how to think and adapt. Your will be expected to teach yourselves a new spell between lessons; one that you believe will be useful, in addition to any other work you may be assigned.’ Nobody dared groan, fearful of the wrath of the dark wizard.

‘However, today we will be focusing on wordless magic. Can anyone tell me why this form might be useful?’ Nobody put their hand up, and he raised a single eyebrow. After a moment, Neville Longbottom shakily spoke up.

‘It means the person you’re duelling won’t know what spell you just cast, Professor Grindelwald, Sir.’

‘Excellent!’ Gellert exclaimed, ‘anything else? No. Everyone think of a spell, a nice offensive one. Wands out.’ There was a rustle of excited movement as people pulled out their wands. Hermione wracked her brain for a suitable spell, eventually settling on a jelly legs curse.

‘Now stand in a semi circle, yes like that around me. Neville, you’re going to curse me, the minute you finish, Seamus, you do the same. I want every one of you to cast your curse at me, as quickly as you can. Ready?’ The students shuffled nervously; there were a lot of them and nobody wanted to curse the teacher in his first lesson. He nodded to Neville, who cried out a disarming charm, Seamus shouted his bat-bogey hex and Gellert deflected the first spell. His wand flickered, a white barrier appearing at each spell, absorbing it, then collapsing in time for a weak stinging hex. To hit whomever had just cast the spell. He quickly overtook the students, Hermione ducked her jinx but Padma’s hit her square in the chest. Then as quickly as it had begun, their wands were all frozen by their sides. The light of the spells faded, and Hermione surveyed her fellow students; about half of them sported a pimple sized sting where they’d failed to avoid the hex but they all bore impressed looks.

‘Now who cast faster?’ The students answered back and he sent them back to their seats.

He spoke for a bit, about concentrating on the spell’s incantation and how to use the gesture to help reinforce it, then he split them into pairs and set them practicing in front of the portraits, who offered advice and shouted at them when they cheated.

The lesson was over quickly and Hermione could hardly fault it. Apparently nobody else could either.

‘That was wicked!’ She heard Malfoy telling his Slytherin friends animatedly. ‘Did you see how fast he was.’

‘I managed to duck that jinx. Did you.’

‘Oy Hermione!’ She turned to see Ron and Harry jogging to catch up. ‘Did you get it?’

Unlike any other teacher, Gellert had not drawn attention to her when she had successfully achieved it, just offering her a quick nod of recognition. She had been offended at first, thinking it was due to their argument, but he had offered little more to anyone else who had achieved it.

Now, she needed to learn a new spell, perhaps a shielding charm. She would bet that was what they covered next.


	51. Chapter 51

Albus was unsurprised to find himself walking through a jungle as he entered Gellert’s classroom. He hadn’t expected his friend to keep the classroom atmosphere for long, particularly given his own lack of schooling.

He had one messy encounter with a Chupacabra which launched itself from a tree, latching onto his upper arm. He swore, tearing the offending creature off him and hurling it into the shrubbery.

‘I hope you’re not planning to set those loose on the children.’ He challenged, noticing Gellert standing on a balcony overlooking the room. The dark wizard vaulted over the rail, landing softly in front of the headmaster.

‘Of course I am.’ He waved his wand and the forest melted away, leaving no evidence of any creatures or the injury on Albus’ shoulder. ‘It’s all a glamour of course, completely within their minds. I’m rather pleased it worked.’

The headmaster wasn’t entirely sure whether he should be allowing such practices, but he decided he could easily call a stop to it if rumours of terrified students reached him, and they would, rapidly.

‘How have you been going with the stone?’ Albus asked, addressing the real reason he was visiting.

‘Slowly. It’s difficult to discover what the curse was designed to do without seeing it in action. How is your research going.’

‘Well enough, Gryffindor owned the sword and the hat, both of which have not left my sight whilst Voldemort has been alive. Ravenclaw owned a diadem, which hasn’t been seen since her daughter lost it.’

‘So that’s a possibility.’ Gellert interrupted, pausing in his rebuilding of the jungle.

‘It is. Hufflepuff had a cup and a belt, the belt is missing and the cup was owned by the direct descendants – the Smith family, until it went missing.’

‘So that’s almost certainly one. He probably stole it.’

‘Most likely, Slytherin owned a wand which is buried beneath Ilvermorny and a locket which is unknown.’

‘So we have a locket, a cup, a diadem and a belt. The diary and the ring, that should be everything.’ Gellert added a finishing touch of some vines to his forest and turned to give Albus his full attention.

‘You’re aware that one must be hidden here?’ The dark wizard asked and Albus sighed, rubbing at his skull. He’d suspected as much; Voldemort had always been attached to the school and he’d had the perfect opportunity to hide it when he’d applied for the job. It was almost certainly in the chamber; a room that could only be accessed by someone who spoke parseltongue.

Or someone with little respect for school property... he eyed Gellert up appreciatively. The dark wizard did like explosions.

As it turned out, Harry was only too happy to help during his free period, and the boy-who-lived met the two wizards at the entrance to the bathroom, looking confused but otherwise happy. He was alone, and still carrying his school bag.

‘Ah Harry, we were hoping you may be able to help us.’ Albus started. Harry nodded eagerly.

‘I guess you want to get into the chamber, right?’ The teenager asked, looking between them and the door.

‘An astute guess.’ Gellert replied sarcastically, earning an unreadable look from Harry. The boy led the way into the bathroom, pausing in front of one of the sinks. Gellert seemed slightly awkward, looking around as though terrified a girl would leap out and start screaming accusations. It was, Dumbledore supposed, a side effect of having been imprisoned whilst the world became more lenient. For once, Gellert had been left far behind.

Harry hissed at the sink, which began to grate apart, spiralling outwards with a deep grating of stone against stone. Harry watched dubiously, whilst the two older wizards could only admire the magic that must have been cast to make this possible. Gellert tapped the grate experimentally, then ran his fingers along the bottom of the sink, then he peered down the massive pipe.

‘Perhaps we should leave our outer robes here. I suspect nothing that goes in will be fit for use again.’ The dark wizard said dryly. ‘You would have thought such an illustrious wizard could cast an anti-damp charm.’

He felt slightly naked wearing only a shirt and trousers after so long in the voluminous, dress like robes he usually wore. Gellert looked as dashing as always, his lean, scarred body almost visible through the thin fabric of the white shirt he wore. He was suddenly very self conscious of how old and worn his body looked and rather wished he’d just let his robes get ruined.

Gellert slid down first, then Harry followed, as grimly silent as the wizard who had gone down before him. Albus peered down the hole, noting the thick slime that could hide anything. He conjured himself a large serving platter, then perched on the edge with his legs dangling over the pipe. With a last, bracing breath he clutched the plate beneath him and shuffled off the edge. What followed next were several minutes of heart-stopping turns, rushing wind and the grating of his metal tray against the pipe. Then he whooshed into freefall, landing with a bone-shaking, sickening crunch a fraction later. His momentum sent him spinning off his tray, skittering across a bank of slimy pebbles. He lay limp for a moment, groaning as his body ached in protest of the sudden rough treatment.

Then Gellert was standing over him, green slime smeared up his face and through his hair, and his shirt untucked. The eerie glow lit up his fiendish grin and he brandished Albus’ rather dented tray above him.

‘Wuss.’ He teased, offering his free hand. Albus closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to take the hand Gellert offered him. He yelped in surprise and pain as something sharp pierced his skin, he snatched his hand back, inspecting the damage as Gellert burst into delighted laughter. Albus pulled the animal bones out of his skin as Gellert scattered those he still held, still laughing.

He got to his feet without assistance, glaring at Gellert all the way. Harry stood a little way away, watching their interaction with a fascinated expression. Albus took a moment to straighten his clothes, his beard was a lost cause and he wished he’d braided it before they came down here.

‘We are searching, Harry, for an object of great personal importance to Lord Voldemort.’ Albus said, trying to regain some of his dignity. Gellert went on to describe the items as they followed the boy-who-lived down a large corridor. They passed a massive snake skin, the dry coils crinkling as Gellert ran his hand over them.

‘This is incredible.’ He marvelled, bending down and picking up a massive shed horn. It was at least as long as his arm, hollow and brittle with age. The dark wizard dropped it suddenly, darting away into the shadows, his attention drawn to something else. Moments later he rejoined them, slithering through the small hole in a rock slide with laughable ease. Harry joined him, his feet disappearing with a rattle of sliding stones, then it was Albus’ turn and he suddenly wished he’d paid more attention – had the others gone through arms first or head first?

He went through arms first, which proved awkward but doable, and he didn’t know whether to be gratified or offended that neither of the waiting wizards helped him through. They left before he had even climbed to his feet, their footsteps crunching on the bone strewn floor. Albus had to hurry to catch up, and he was more than pleased when no more physical challenges presented themselves.

They climbed through a massive, circular doorway, then followed a dank, dripping pipe. Then the smell drifted to their noses, coiling around them with putrid toxicity. Albus’ stomach roiled, Harry managed a couple more steps before hurling his lunch into the passage. Albus summoned a strong wind, sending it barrelling down the passage and sucking the smell away with it.

‘No breeze down here.’ Gellert commented, ‘I wonder if the venom affects the decomposition process?’

If it had, Albus decided, it certainly hadn’t done so enough to prevent only bones being left. Huge bones; ribs taller than he was and a skull bigger than a thestral and carriage littered the central pathway, the spinal cord looping through the water to either side. Gellert blasted his way through, magically pushing the bones to either side, where they landed in the water with massive splashes. Albus cast a lumos maxima, deciding they would have a far better chance of finding the horcrux in real light.

The glowing orb soared up to the ceiling, and he had to cast another three to light the whole cave. Most of it was just water, rippling on either side of the walkway. He peered over, unable to see the bottom, or even the bones which Gellert had pushed aside and concluded that it must be very deep.

Giant stone snake mouths reared from the water, looking eerie but otherwise purely decorative extensions to the tail shaped pillars that held up the cavern further back. A brief inspection showed there to be no void in the back of their mouths and he only bothered to briefly scan them for magical residue – the large statue at the far end was a far more likely candidate.

Gellert had taught Harry a clever little charm so that he could see the bottom of the murky, shallow lake, and the boy was happily scouring the bottom whilst the older wizard scanned the large statue. Albus gingerly waded through the water, coming to stop beside his old friend.

‘Any luck?’ He asked, unsurprised when the other wizard shook his head.

‘There must be a room behind. Harry says the snake came out of its mouth.’ Gellert tapped the firmly closed mouth with his wand. Frustration leaked through his every move as he snapped out several opening charms with no success. Then Harry hissed from somewhere behind him, drawing both wizards attention. The mouth grated open, the ancient charms no longer running smoothly, revealing a gaping black maw. Both wizards turned back to stare at the young man, who seemingly unaware that he had just bested two of the greatest minds in wizarding history, was using his newest charm with relish, peering at the variety of crustaceans that had taken up residence on the floor.

Albus led the way into the gaping hole, his wandlight a beacon that lit very little in the thick darkness. It smelled back here, although not of decay, just a pervading odour of fish and damp. The slime was less prevalent, which was a relief because the ascent was steep, followed by a steep, slippery drop.

They emerged into a stinking mess that could only be a nest; splintered furniture, shredded paper and soaked fabric, mixed with more dead fish and rodents.

‘There could be anything hidden beneath this lot!’ Harry groaned, having followed them in.

‘How big was that snake?’

‘Massive.’ The boy answered, gesturing widely with his arms.

‘Would Voldemort have been able to get down here to hide something?’ Albus asked the room in general.

‘More importantly, would he have left something that important to him here? A rank, stinking animal nest? It hardly fits his pride.’ Gellert levitated something that looked like a sanitary pad from the mess. Both Albus and Harry gagged.

‘So where is it?’ Harry asked the question that was pressing on all their minds.

‘Maybe there isn’t one here at all.’


	52. Chapter 52

Harry had spilled that Hermione was having private lessons. She hadn’t even known she was still going to be receiving them now that she had drawn her line in the sand. So when Harry had stupidly, obtusely asked her what to expect in the lesson in front of Ron she hadn’t denied it quickly enough. Now Ron was refusing to speak to either of them and, perhaps because he was jealous, was snogging Lavender Brown at every available opportunity.

Perhaps that would have been bothered her in third year, back when she’d experimented with his name after hers. She didn’t know what had changed, or even when it had but seeing this explicit demonstration of how petty he was really did nothing to restore her crush.

A letter did arrive for her after dinner, folded neatly in place of the homework she had left alone for only a minute. She stared at the folded scrap and the familiar, elegant handwriting that taunted her from it. Somehow, whilst she had only been a shelf away, Gellert had stolen her homework, and told her to come to Albus’ office to retrieve it. She had been blackmailed into attending a lesson with him.

She made her way up to the familiar entrance, consulting the slip of parchment to check the new password. Harry was already there, sitting across from Professor Dumbledore with a pensieve on the desk between them. Gellert lounged against one of tables in the corner, looking completely unbothered by the spindly legs that groaned under his weight as he looked critically at one of the glass instruments. He looked up when she entered, and Harry turned in his seat, interrupting whatever Dumbledore had been saying.

‘Ah, Miss Granger.’ The headmaster said, peering over his half moon glasses. ‘Please, take a seat. Professor Grindelwald, if you could draw up a chair.’

Gellert literally drew a chair, sketching a wooden chair with his wand, which materialised as a wooden chair like the ones one would find in some manor, with wolves carved across the back and arms. He floated it over for her and she sat, him pushing the chair in for her. He then went back to where he had been inspecting the instruments, although now he observed the trio at the desk instead.

‘Now that you both are here, I have something I wish for Harry to see which Gellert believes you will not benefit from, Miss Granger. As such, we have agreed that you will meet with him alone for the foreseeable future.’ She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach; did Dumbledore not realise how dark a wizard he was? Did he not realise the things Gellert type of magic he could force her to learn if Dumbledore wasn’t there to supervise?

‘Professor, I really would rather not receive these lessons any longer.’ She protested, despite the part of her that shrivelled and died at refusing extra education. Gellert shifted behind her, but she forced herself to stare resolutely at the headmaster, who just peered at her over his half-moon glasses.

‘Gellert Grindelwald is a very great wizard who can teach you far more than I ever could.’ The Headmaster said sagely.

‘Not the kind of magic I want to learn!’ The young witch declared, flinching when she heard the wizard standing behind her move abruptly. He strode around the table with rapid, echoing strides until he towered over them all, facing the two students.

‘When have I ever forced you to learn anything, when have I ever even suggested you learn something you wouldn’t approve of?’ Gellert hissed, something like anger twisting his features. She leaned back in her seat, trying to put some distance between them. Dumbledore laid a hand on Grindelwald’s arm and the dark wizard took a deep breath, his head dropping.

‘He has discussed with me what you will be learning, and I approve. Does that satisfy you, Miss Granger.’ Dumbledore said sternly, his eyes suddenly very sharp over his glasses. She looked between the two wizards, still not entirely certain that the dark wizard wouldn’t try something anyway. Finally she nodded curtly, Dumbledore said something she couldn’t hear to Gellert, then patted him on the back. The dark wizard straightened, beckoning wordlessly before sweeping from the room. She followed, hurrying so as to not lose him but still reluctant to go anywhere with him. Harry gave her an uncertain wave as she left which she did not return. A slight cough caught her attention just as she reached the door. She spun to see Dumbledore looking at her expectantly.

‘Miss Granger, I believe it would behove you to remember that he is only human.’ The old wizard said kindly and Hermione straightened.

‘He is a murderer.’ She answered, feeling rather bold.

He led her to his classroom and she paused in the doorway of his office. The room was nothing like she had expected; she had thought it would have the sparsely modern appearance of his muggle home, or perhaps the gothic darkness of Dracula’s castle. Instead, the room was carpeted in pale blue, the furniture a warm mid-tone wood with several bookshelves full of books. None of them looked particularly dark from a distance; clean covers, red and green leather spread among the hazels and chocolate browns. In fact, the only book bound in telltale black was trimmed in the brightest of golds.

The other contents of the desk weren’t remotely dark either; there was an ornate crystal ball, a massive stack of parchment, a selection of quills and several different colours of ink. Of course, she knew that at least where Gellert was concerned that meant very little – she hadn’t even found out his real name for years, until he’d deigned to tell her.

She dropped her bag at the door and held out her hand expectantly.

‘Where’s my homework.’ Hermione demanded. Gellert’s expression remained unchanged but he turned away, selecting a parchment from the pile on desk. It wasn’t her homework and she wiggled her fingers impatiently.

‘Albus is teaching Harry the secret to Voldemort’s immortality.’ Grindelwald said, completely ignoring her request. ‘He wanted to let you in on it at the same time, however I felt that his method was slow and wasted time that could be better spent doing other things.’

‘I would rather have had pointless lessons with Dumbledore than you.’ She snapped, admitting defeat and dropping her hand back to her side. She wondered if “my teacher stole my homework” counted as an excuse. Gellert hurled the sheet at the desk and it drifted lazily onto the surface.

‘What do you want me to do?’ He asked, the defeat in his tone contrasting the violence of his actions. He was still facing away from her, but his shoulders hunched as he braced his arms on the desk.

‘I want nothing from you.’

‘You want me to leave? To go away and disappear?’ He sounded strange, still facing away from her. ‘If you ask me to, I will. You’ll never hear of me again.’

She took a breath to answer, to send him irrevocably into exile. Then she hesitated.

‘I tried, Hermione. I tried to help you win in the only way I know how. I haven’t done anything you would disapprove of, not since we met.’ A shudder ran through him, noticeable even across the office. He sounded sad, defeated, she decided.

‘You’ve done plenty that I disapprove of.’ She said coldly. He was a murderer and she wouldn’t fall for his sob story.

‘I have.’ He admitted. ‘I’m a twisted, foul creature with no remorse, no conscience.’ Another shudder ran through him, along with a grunt of pain and she frowned, her compassion overruling her righteousness.

‘Are you okay?’ The young witch crossed the room quickly, reaching for his shoulder.

‘I’m fine. I deserve worse.’ He moaned as another tremor ran through him. She filtered her vision, slipping into the plane of her blessing and seeing his soul. She had to suppress a gasp; the mess of his soul was moving, writhing and twisting beneath his skin. He spasmed beneath her hand as his soul contracted and flexed, another moan escaping him.

‘You’re not remorseless.’ She stated, a silver of wonderment glowing through her like a ray of sunshine, even as blue light blazed along a scar in his black silhouette.

‘I’d rather be right now.’ He gritted out as his soul gave a violent churn.

‘I think you do deserve this.’ She said frankly, and his soul stilled suddenly, perhaps as his thoughts were hauled off track. ‘You hurt people, and now you can’t get what you want without being punished for it.’ She paused, checking that he was listening. The black of his soul was still.

‘I can’t.’ He said. Hermione didn’t know whether he was agreeing with her, or telling her that he couldn’t do it.

‘This is all new to you... accountability, right and wrong.’ Then something else occurred to her. ‘Did you even feel for those vendors, how terrified they were?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes!’ She actually laughed, amazed that someone could have come this far in life without such a basic concept. ‘We don’t terrify people into doing what we want. That’s not right. That would make us as bad as Voldemort.’

‘I am as bad as Voldemort. You blind yourself to the truth, then get upset when I do something that reminds you of that fact.’ He spat. The trembling had stopped.

‘No, you’re better than Voldemort because you want to be. You just need to help to get there. I was wrong to shut you out then, when you needed my help.’ Her hand ran down his back, tracing the strangely prominent ridges of his spine through his robes.

‘I don’t need help.’ The dark wizard growled, but he sounded uncertain.

‘I think you do. You want to be a better person but you don’t know how to be. Your moral compass is so twisted that you need someone to help you realign it.’

He stood suddenly, shaking her hand off so that he faced her. She shifted to the other plane, so that she could see his face. He looked desperate, so different to the usually rigidly controlled facade. Then he took her two hands, clasping them in his own.

‘I want to be someone you can stand to be with. Morgana damn everyone else, they can burn. Help me with that.’ Requested the dark wizard.

‘I can do that.’ She said evenly, pretending the situation wasn’t unusual. It felt slightly like she was dealing with a wild animal, she had to move slowly and calmly or he would spook. ‘I forgive you for slipping up, if you can forgive me for abandoning you.’

‘Thank you, Hermione.’ He whispered, almost reverently.

‘You better teach me some really powerful magic though! That’s your end of the bargain.’ She joked, breaking the thick tension in the room. They took their seats at the desk and Gellert handed back her homework.


	53. Chapter 53

Gellert looked up as someone knocked on his door, then he glanced quickly over at the clock above the fireplace. It was fractionally before curfew, very late for someone to be visiting. He touched his hand to the wand on his desk before calling for the knocker to enter. The door creaked as it opened, something he had been careful to cultivate; doors were only silent during peacetime, and the Grindelwald family had never been at peace.

The young Malfoy was his visitor; a nervous, flighty expression on his face. Gellert had wondered when he would come. The boy’s correspondence had been lacking since Voldemort’s exposure and although Gellert had ranging theories as to why, he had no definitive answer.

‘What may I do for you, Draco.’ He asked, giving the boy his full attention and pushing his marking aside. It was part of the trick with both Malfoys, they had to feel important. They were important of course, but they needed to be reminded of that constantly. Hermione however, she knew that just because he was looking at something else, didn’t mean he wasn’t listening to what she was saying.

‘It’s my father, Sir.’ Draco began and sensing that this would be a long conversation, Gellert conjured a chair for him. The student sat, at ease with the fine piece of furniture where Gellert’s Gryffindor friends were not.

‘Go on.’

‘You see, the Dark Lord holds him responsible for the mission at the ministry. He’s torturing my mother.’ Draco finally choked out. Gellert leaned back in his chair, nodding that he understood. Draco wanted his mother safe, it was obvious, and to do anything otherwise would lose his support, perhaps that of his father with it. Lucius had only vaguely mentioned his demotion, and had not owled since, Gellert had forgotten him when his usefulness expired. Now however, Hermione’s words rang in his mind. Perhaps he would have left the Malfoy family to their fate fifty years ago, but now he had to value every life, win loyalty through love. This would certainly cement the youngest Malfoy’s loyalty.

‘I can extract both your parents; however they will need to live in a safe house, one unknown to their peers. Your manor is compromised.’

‘The Dark Lord has access to all the paperwork for the safehouses.’ Draco admitted and Gellert had to fight to keep the disapproval off his face. Perhaps it was time to visit the various Grindelwald safehouses, see which the ICW knew of and which had remained secret.

‘I will get something in order. Perhaps not of the standard you are used to. Have you a house elf?’ Gellert knew they did, they had three in fact, sans the one Harry had freed. Winky had seen to that knowledge but Draco’s confirmation couldn’t hurt.

He had also learned that the elves could apparate through the wards at the manor which was an almost laughable flaw, perhaps testament to the arrogance of the Malfoys. He dismissed Draco, telling him that he had things to prepare and to return at the same time the next day. It wasn’t a lie.

He left the school using the flu, arriving at Grimmauld place. Sirius Black was waiting for him, perhaps alerted by Kreacher. The escaped prisoner had recovered well since their breakout, regaining his strength and muscle, as per Gellert’s instructions. He was still a wanted man but not for much longer, if the strings Gellert was beginning to pull worked and once he did get freed... then Gellert would have cemented the loyalty of the two most influential wizengamot houses.

He paused only to pass on what little news he had of the beginning of term, and shared briefly their adventure down to the chamber of secrets, then left through the front door. He apparated quickly to the continent, his first destination the grandest of his family’s safehouses, on the assumption that all the estates had been well documented and would certainly be watched. This one was built into the side of a Norwegian Fjord, carved into the very cliff. It was only visible as a narrow slit in the rock, about half way up the face, and was only accessible by broom.

It hadn’t been entered in years, the wards untouched, subtle as ever. The door was almost rusted shut, the protest of the lock echoing down the fjord. The enchanted torches flared to life, lighting the cavernous entry hall. Crimson carpet was thick with dust, the Grindelwald wolf hung on banners from the ceiling, the silver thread glinting in the light. He didn’t go any further, having seen all he needed to see. This would do in an emergency but was far too large and valuable to be used by a single family.

His next visit was to one of his favourite, this one reached by swimming through an underwater cave. It was perhaps the best hidden, and although large inside it was severely lacking the creature comforts he would hope for. The Malfoys would not use this one either, Gellert decided, running his hand over a stone seat.

The Spanish safe house had been discovered by the ICW, a variant of the caterwauling charm placed around the inconspicuous villa.

He finally had a win with the longhouse. It was freezing, under several feet of snow despite it being summer. This was one of the few he had actually spent a night at, having utilised it whilst searching for the Russian necromancer that was rumoured to own the stone. The thick log walls kept it wonderfully warm once the fire was lit, furs covering the floor to keep feet warm and blankets piled on the beds. It was reasonably grand in a Nordic, Viking kind of way, perfectly suitable for the Malfoy family so long as he could procure international port keys.

It was late by the time he returned to Hogwarts, the Russian safe house ready for its new inhabitants. He awarded the remaining homeworks on his desk a D, because that seemed to be the average standard of essay writing in the second year class and he couldn’t be bothered to read them, then he went to bed.

The next day he forced himself to be attentive in lessons, particularly because this was the first lesson where students would encounter mountain creatures. Of course, the Slytherin group botched the entire assignment completely, having failed to consider working as a team. One Gryffindor fourth year decided to ‘sacrifice himself’ by distracting a hippogriff and the entire exercise had to be paused whilst his fellows convinced him that his severed arm was actually still intact. As usual he was rather pleased when the relatively competent sixth year class arrived after lunch.

They had a double, so they were the only class to complete the entire scenario, including the undead dragon. Hermione’s spectacular magic could only have been learned from the book he gave her before the start of term, and he felt a little glow that she had read it, along with the twinge of nervousness that always came when he realised one more of his secrets was exposed. He doubted it would be long before the runes carved into his back came to her attention.

He asked Draco to stay behind after the lesson to a round of ‘oohs’ from the class. A quick glare silenced that and the students shuffled from the room, chattering about dragons and zombies. A quick perusal of the rumours confirmed that the next lesson would be on inferi – one person actually though inferi ate brains.

‘What are we going to do, Sir.’ Malfoy asked, already shedding his school robe for something more inconspicuous. Gellert approved.

‘Take this broomstick. We’re going to fly to Hogsmeade.’ Gellert handed him one of the school brooms, which Draco took without complaint, perhaps recognising that the brooms might have to be left behind. They left through the window in Gellert’s office, making a slow but steady pace on the old brooms. Gellert’s had a slight vibration when he accelerated, and Draco’s whined at high altitude, which was more than a little unnerving but usually was only a sign that the air density charm was failing.

They landed outside The Three Broomsticks but Gellert caught Draco’s arm before he could go inside.

‘Summon your elves.’ He instructed and the Malfoy boy did as he was told. All three pitiful creatures appeared with a pop. The female’s ears were bandaged and the youngest bore a nasty, fresh curse scar which was visible through the charred hole in its pillowcase.

‘Apparate to this address once you have them. Draco, give them this port key. It will take them to and from that location and the safe house.’

‘And what will you do, Sir?’ The boy asked, nerves making his voice quaver.

‘I will be your distraction.’ Gellert grinned savagely, disapparating straight to the gates.

He had scouted the manor already, long before term began, so he knew what to expect. The gate opened at a tap from his wand, recognising ancient blood and the wards tickled him as he went through. His mission was to protect the master of the house, and the house recognised that, the maze of hedges that was perhaps meant to be a last defence straightening so that he could straide straight for the house. An albino peacock peered at him as he passed, but otherwise nobody noticed him.

Then he heard a surprised shout, followed by another. Perhaps he had been lucky enough to intrude upon a meeting. Either way, he blasted the front doors off their hinges with a noise like a thunderclap. Splintered wood and twisted metal sprayed across the entry hall, splinters embedding themselves in ancient panting and smashing priceless vases. Purple and green curses sliced through the opening, missing him by meters and he chucked a potion through the doorway. A bang and a flash, then thick yellow gas poured from the room, an agonised scream letting him know that at least someone had breathed it in. He cast a bubble head charm and plunged into the room, someone moved in the thick smog and a hex zinged his way. He ducked underneath it and sent a volley of curses in the direction it had come from. Someone cast a ventus, clearing the smoke and Gellert rolled into the cover of an ostentatious clawed wardrobe.

Someone burst out of the doorway opposite him, saw him and collapsed, wide eyed as his jelly legs jinx hit him square in the chest (blasted Hogwarts students! That was the first spell to come to mind). He followed up with an inversion curse, just to make up for his sissy jelly legs and the screams of his enemy was the perfect distraction as he blasted someone off the top of the stairs with a bolt of lightning.

He dove from behind the wardrobe as it exploded into flames, dashing through the doorway and jumping over the convulsing victim of his inversion curse. He slipped on the dropped wand, grabbed a gold candelabra as he went down and managed to catch himself on a chair. An oriental style couch took a spell from him, then he lobbed the candelabra, transfiguring it into a three headed snake as it flew. Apparently candelabra weren’t venomous, but they were certainly good at biting because the death eater howled as the snake plunged through the eye socket of his mask. He didn’t bother to disable that one, just left the golden snake to its job as he turned the gas victim into an inferius and sent it lurching up the stairs towards its fellows. Of course, they knew how to deal with it, a healthy roar of fire disintegrating the undead and ceasing just in time for the caster to get a faceful of blinding hex.

Then a green glowing serpent coiled down the stairs, about the size of the basilisk and Gellert knew Voldemort had joined the duel. He sent a wave of power to disintegrate it, scrambled to deflect a jinx and ducked a crucio. Voldemort sent several telltale green curses in his direction and he leapt into the air, levitating himself up to the high ceiling and balancing precariously on the chandelier.

He cast a nox, plunging the room into darkness and effectively disabling everyone other than himself and the other dark lord. He used a revealing charm to show the other people in the room, cursing the glowing figures into unconsciousness, which completely took them out of action, leaving Gellert alone with Voldemort. Neither dark wizard needed the light, so it wasn’t relit as Voldemort sliced through the chain holding Gellert’s chandelier aloft. He jumped as it plunged, transfiguring the carpet into a cushion and landing with a muffled flump. The chandelier flew towards him and he jumped to the right, forcing the chandelier to keep flying, hurling it towards Voldemort at the top of the stairs. They traded spells, dark and terrible mixed with what could only be called innocuous. A slicing charm missed Gellert by inches, slashing his pillow. He distracted the dark lord with a couple of crucios as he turned feathers into metal and flung them up the stairs. China smashed and more wood splintered.

Voldemort hissed. He’d injured him. Gellert followed up by a flurry of various jinxes and hexes. He banished the floorboards beneath Voldemort’s feet, forcing the dark wizard to move sideways. More blood was drawn as he was forced to tread on those metal feathers with his bare feet. Gellert meanwhile fell victim to his first injury, courtesy of one of his own feathers. He melted them out of anger, rewarded by the hiss of Voldemort. The varnish burned off the floors with a toxic smoke, leaving both wizards gasping for air and forcing a brief pause. Gellert didn’t need to defeat the other dark wizard though – he wasn’t in his position, with the advantage. In fact, it was the complete opposite. Malfoy was long gone, or if he wasn’t he would have failed anyway, so Gellert ignited the vapour with a spark, grabbed the hand Winky provided and disappeared with a crack as the air exploded where he had just been.


	54. Chapter 54

He was late for their lesson but Hermione had far too much homework to do to waste time. A casual wave of her wand lit the torches in the classroom and she spread out on her usual desk, starting work on her charms essay.

She checked the clock again. He was now quarter of an hour late, so on the off chance that he had returned by floo, she knocked on the door again. Still no answer. She returned to her homework.

Half an hour later he arrived, whooshing through the floo with at roar of fire loud enough to be heard from the classroom. She finished her sentence, meticulously dotting the i’s and finishing with a perfect diamond shaped full stop. Then she packed her books away and slung her bag over her shoulder, knocking on the door. She heard his surprised silence, followed by a muttered curse and the door swung open.

He was dusty, his robes shredded and smelling strongly of smoke, along with the acidic smell of dark magic. He was bleeding, minor but enough to mix with the dust to form a brownish smear across his hand. She forgot all about the lesson.

‘Where have you been?’ She asked incredulously.

‘I thought I’d stir things up a little.’ He said with faux casualness and she managed to choke out a laugh. ‘Couldn’t let Voldemort get too comfortable in Malfoy Manor.’

He let her slip past him into the room, and followed her to the desk as she took a seat. She peered at the pile of essays on the desk, noticing that the top five had all scored a D. Surprised, she shuffled through the stack and found all bar three had received the terrible score. Gellert stripped off his outer robe, depositing it in a pile on the floor, then he took off his waistcoat, dropping that in the same place. His shoulder had bled like a blossoming rose across his back and Hermione dropped the homework she had been reading (it wasn’t excellent but it was better than a D).

‘I’ll heal that for you.’ She decided, stopping him before he could retreat into his room to get a clean shirt. Knowing him, he would have left it bleeding all over his shirts because he was too proud to admit he couldn’t reach the spot. He hesitated, then seemed to give in, reluctantly stripping off his shirt.

He was very strong, smooth skin sliding over wiry muscles in his back and making the scars look alive. She surveyed they injury carefully – it was just a nick, perhaps he hadn’t even felt it, but it had bled a lot. She siphoned the blood away with her wand, revealing the injury, and the rule he had carved – or more likely had someone else carve into his back. It was a necromantic one, so that the bearer didn’t need to draw out the ritual each time they raised the dead, and fortunately the injury hadn’t damaged the delicate lines. A quick episkey fixed the cut, leaving only a pale line, before she allowed Gellert to retreat into his room and get fresh clothes.

She went back to the desk and took out the essay again, borrowing his pot of red ink and jotting down a couple of corrections. She added a line into the D, changing it to a B. That was a much more reasonable mark. She had started the next by the time Gellert reappeared in clean clothes.

‘Did you actually read these?’ She asked critically and he peered over her shoulder.

‘Some of them.’ He flicked his hand dismissively, requesting tea from the elves. A pot appeared on the desk, along with a plate of cookies. He poured them both a cup, stirring in the perfect quantity of milk.

‘It’s important to recognise them for their work.’ She scolded lightly and he sneered. She used her wand to erase the edge of the D on a paper, changing the mark to a C. The next was a T, the handwriting so abysmal that she couldn’t even read it.

‘Don’t you have an appointment tonight?’ He asked and Hermione’s stomach suddenly felt like lead.

‘The Slug club.’ She replied sullenly; he tutted disapprovingly.

‘It seems tonight’s lesson will be on the importance of networking. Have you got dress robes?’ She replied in the negative and he gave a frustrated sigh, then gestured for her to stand. A moment later she stood in a floor length, red satin gown and he twirled his wand to add detailing. A snap of his fingers and Winky the house elf appeared, clapping her hands with glee as she was let loose on Hermione’s hair. As the elf worked, yanking on the strands and pulling her head this way and that, Gellert lectured Hermione on pureblood manners – something he assured her was relevant in modern wizarding society if she wanted to mingle with the upper echelons.

He changed his own clothes, a smart set of black dress robes flowing from his shoulders. Winky finished with her hair and pointed her fingers at her master’s clothes, creases magically disappearing.

They arrived at the party fashionably late, Hermione feeling like a princess on Gellert’s arm. The thought of Cormac McLaggen was somewhat less intimidating on the arm of the dark wizard. Slughorn stumbled slightly as he greeted them, initially nervous but then a glint appeared in his eyes. He introduced them to everyone in the room, almost entirely ignoring Cormac when he arrived, before finally allowing them to take their seats to his right at the head of the table.

‘Why does he like us more than the others?’ She asked, confusion colouring her tone. From what she had heard, Slughorn favoured the influential members of pureblood families and muggleborns were incredibly rarely invited.

‘Because your dress was worn by Artemisia Lufkin to her first public appearance.’ He answered smugly.

‘Why does that matter?’

‘Because Artemisia Lufkin was the first woman to be minister for magic.’ Hermione’s mouth popped open.

‘That sends a message.’ She tried to sound disgruntled, but secretly she was rather pleased. She vaguely remembered Lufkin had been the one to create a department for international cooperation. With Cormac’s arrival (he arrived out of breath and late, one of only a couple still in their school robes.) it seemed everyone was there, and food appeared on the table. It was a cut above the usual Hogwarts fare –delicious as ever but a touch more refined.

She made polite conversation with Ernest Firewheel, a supplier of wood to the company that made the Firebolt but they had nothing in common. He was certainly a step below average intelligence and clearly rarely left his farm, despite being incredibly wealthy. Gellert on the other hand had turned his charisma up to full as he charmed a Vampire king across Slughorn. She was glad when the meal was over, although she gained at least some amusement from watching Cormac flounder when Grindelwald mentioned his DADA scores.

She was glad when the dinner was over, although she hadn’t made a useful contact, Gellert had probably managed to talk that vampire out of his castle.


	55. Chapter 55

He’d found the preparations leading up to the Hogsmeade weekend almost amusing. The staff seemed to consider it a monumental event; organising carriages, developing security procedures and getting paperwork in order. They were a well oiled machine – one apparently used to a less than useful contribution from the Defence teacher. Gellert was only too happy to meet their expectations; resolving to accompany Hermione once again.

He asked her during their lesson, managing to be considerably smoother than the last time, and she agreed to spend the morning with him but had already planned to meet Harry and Ron in the Three Broomsticks.

This time however, he had no intentions of actually remaining in Hogsmeade. He’d booked them lunch at a restaurant in Diagon Alley and he rather thought she would like to visit the wizarding museum in Greece. He also had a contingency plan in case she didn’t feel comfortable with international apparition without a permit; they would look around the subterranean levels of the Tower of London. Apparently the Fletcher family had kept an impressive collection of wizarding memorabilia back to the Celtic Druids.

He met her at the carriages and they shared with Harry, Ron opting to go with Lavender Brown much later.

Gellert didn’t bother waiting until they were all the way to Hogsmeade, knocking against the window to signal that he wanted out. The thestrals stopped obligingly and he hopped down into the snow, helping Hermione climb down more elegantly. She had worn a smart set of robes, not overly formal but not muggle at least and he wondered how long it would be before she began to dress like this all the time, she was certainly intelligent enough to realise fairly quickly that there was a significant advantage to dressing like a wealthy pureblood.

‘Where are we going?’ She asked cautiously and he smiled.

‘London.’

London?’ She squeaked. He nodded and she sighed. ‘I suppose you’re allowed to do whatever you want now you’re a teacher.’

‘Well actually, I was rather hoping you would come with me to Greece, but I suspect you wouldn’t want to apparate without an international licence.’ She shook her head vehemently that no, she would not like to break the law. He doubted she would remain that way for long, but for now he was happy to indulge in her childhood fantasy that all powerful wizards obeyed that law. In fact, he was fairly certain that the only people who bothered to apply for licences were those who couldn’t apparate that far without assistance.

Either way, today was not a day for argument, so he apparated her to Diagon Ally. It was dead quiet, almost deserted now that no one had to visit to buy school supplied. There were none of those silly amulet vendors, he was pleased to note as he would have hated to have to follow up on his threat with Hermione present.

He led her through the deserted alleyway and then took a left, past Gringotts to where the more expensive area was. This area was a buzz of activity compared to the deserted main alley, perhaps because most of the patrons were followers of Voldemort and had nothing to fear. Rich, pureblood wives gossiped at a cafe, sipping the florally scented pixie dust tea. One of the women tittered and peered over the rim of her cup at them. In unison her three companions all turned in their seats and looked down their noses at them, until he fixed them with his mismatched eyes. Even the powder they wore couldn’t counteract their blanches. Hermione, thankfully seemed rather oblivious and she looked about with interest.

There was a bookshop on the right, the covers within a neat patchwork of coloured leather that glittered with gold. The books in there would most certainly not be school texts, instead advanced philosophical debates and treatises on obscure areas of magic; the kind of place where only the very well educated would shop. Next door was Twilfits and Tattings which Hermione didn’t even pay a passing glance to. Instead her eyes slid over to the jewellery shop on the other side of the road. He knew that she had recognised the way the shop almost reeked of powerful enchantments, because no meaningful gift of jewellery in the pureblood world could be simply aesthetic.

He slowed intentionally outside the shop and paid meticulous attention to where her eyes wandered. She seemed very interested in the ring that could translate text and a rather fitting wolf shaped cloak clasp that had a powerful shield charm on it. Then, with Christmas present ideas taken care of, he gently guided her to the restaurant.

It was an old building, the decorations done in the gaudy style of the 19th Century and perhaps original to the period. Gellert’s own home had never particularly taken up the fascination with the oriental style which did not blend well with the gothic construction. He could see how it would appeal to those that wished to appear wealthy and refined, particularly to the “new money” but the Grindelwalds had never needed to appear wealthy or refined when they had sat on more thrones than any other family alive.

They were led by the waiter to a table concealed behind an ornate screen. It had been set for two, but not in a romantic manner; the table was hidden behind tall screens but the space was well lit and bright and the table was large with the places laid strictly opposite one another. Even in his own time the setting wouldn’t have been considered intimate. He pulled out her chair and a server appeared moments later with the first course.

Three hours later, they were well fed... slightly too well fed. His only complaint was that the servings had been slightly too large but Hermione seemed happy. Then they apparated straight to the tower of London, their strange apparel not even garnering a glance. They ducked sideways into a dark corridor, the old light bulb flickering uncertainly in magical currents that wafted through the far door.

He led Hermione past the light and through into a dimly lit corridor. He had expected it to feel damp, knowing that they were beneath the Thames, but instead it was dry as a bone and he could feel dehumidifying charms leeching the moisture from his lips. Hermione produced a little green tin and smeared some clear potion over her lips, then offered for him to do the same. He doubtfully smeared it over his too, surprised at the slightly odd but not unpleasant flavour.

‘Welcome to the museum.’ A short wizard stood behind them, having appeared from behind a tall display case of books. ‘Ah, Mr. Grindelwald, the museum thanks you for your discoveries. Your elf certainly has an eye for treasure.’

He nodded as though he understood what the man was talking about, resolving to ask Winky exactly what he had been supposedly selling to the museum. There were certainly enough historical artefacts spread throughout the various Grindelwald properties to make a museum owner drool, but he hadn’t instructed her to sell them. In fact, he had given her enough other instructions that he couldn’t imagine she would have managed to find things to sell. What would possess the usually well behaved elf to act in such a manner?

The matter occupied his mind so badly that he completely missed the historian walking them through the recent history section. He vaguely registered a couple of questions directed at him during the era of his campaign, but he answered in single words. Eventually he excused himself to the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

‘Winky.’ He snapped. The elf appeared, cowering beneath his terrible glare.

‘Has Winky failed her master Sir?’ She knotted her hands in her little woollen cloak, stretching the jaws of the embroidered wolf of the Grindelwald crest and making it look as though it were trying to swallow her whole.

‘Why is the museum owner under the impression that I have been selling artifacts?’ He expected her to shrink away, to immediately punish herself, but instead the elf suddenly stood up proudly.

‘Winky has been selling things, Sir. The room at Hogwarts has rules of finders-keepers, and Winky finds many good things. She hears Master Grindelwald cannot get to his vaults, so Winky sells some of the things she finds and sends the monies to Master Grindelwald’s account.’

For a moment he didn’t know how to react. This elf was truly brilliant, perhaps a little independent for some people’s tastes but he had always hated reliance. Of course, he hadn’t thought to check the small account he had made when he first escaped but if Winky had been selling good enough things to warrant comment by the owner... perhaps he should.

‘Well done Winky, but in future, bring these matters to my attention.’ He scolded gently, the elf’s ears drooped slightly but she seemed to understand that he was actually rather pleased because she perked up again almost immediately and he dismissed her before rejoining the others.


	56. Chapter 56

The museum was fascinating and the owner who gave them the tour was only too happy to answer questions. He was jumpy and seemed permanently nervous, but when Gellert left to use the bathroom it became quickly apparent that this was because of the dark wizard’s presence. The man settled down and they had a long conversation about the origin of the myth that silver was powerful against werewolves.

When Gellert returned seeming much more settled, they continued into the Tudors. There had even been five ships full of witches and wizards defending the British against the Spanish Armada. The muggles believed the ships had been filled with gunpowder and sent among the fleet. She knew this story from when she had been in school, but it was fascinating to hear how the ICW hadn’t been able to completely erase the blatant magic from every muggle memory. There was even a display of the wands that had been used in the event, one of which was still completely intact and apparently, functional.

From there they moved on to the formation of the ICW, then the witch burnings covered several rooms. The next room was druids, with displays of staffs and athames and the far more ritualistic magic they had used. She was fascinated to learn that the druids had only ever used staffs for serious magic and the rest had been done wandlessly, she wondered whether magic had truly weakened or whether they had just lost the skill. Dumbledore and Gellert were the only wizards she had ever met who could perform wandless magic.

The display of athames was incredible, ranging from one that was inset with more jewels than the value of her parent’s house to one that was barely more than a sharpened stake. They varied massively in condition, the ones that had been used for darker magic apparently lasting longer than the light ones. She was itching to know if the same effect could be hand on wands too and wondered if the one that remained from the Spanish Armada had been used for the fiendfyre that supposedly consumed one of the ships.

They moved through the section on the Romans and Vikings, then entered a room solely centred around Hogwarts and the founders. Her vision blurred as they walked through the door, as though her second sight was pushing to be seen. She frowned, having barely had to meditate for weeks it seemed odd to be having such a relapse now.

She tugged on Gellert’s sleeve to gain his attention and the wizard took one look at her expression before falling back slightly. A buzz filled her ears and she knew he had cast a privacy charm.

‘I keep losing my vision.’ She hissed, instinctively not wanting to talk loudly despite the privacy charm. ‘It’s like the other layer is being really persistent.’

‘You should let is in. Usually it means your gift wants you to see something important.’ He told her, casting his eyes around the room as if searching for whatever she was meant to be seeing. She grimaced, dreading the hours of mediation it would take to clear her vision again after this, before allowing the fog to fully cover her vision. Immediately, Gellert’s icy darkness jumped out at her, then the deep blue of the museum guide. She cast her gaze around the room, the many powerful, ancient objects still glowing faintly with the traces of their old owners. She almost missed it, having not looked up that high to begin with.

‘Ah, that was recently donated to us by Mr. Grindelwald here.’ The museum owner commented, returning to their side. ‘The missing diadem of Ravenclaw.’

The diadem of Ravenclaw was a twisted, throbbing ball of dark magic, as present as any living being and seemingly almost sentient.

‘It’s full of dark magic.’ She commented loud enough for only Gellert to hear. He hummed as if unsurprised.

‘Confundo.’ He said calmly, and the museum owner wandered away down the displays. She almost objected before reasoning that in the grand scheme of things, a confundus wasn’t that bad.

‘What is it?’

‘This, I believe, carries a section of Voldemort’s soul.’ He climbed up and reached for the black mass and she half expected it to lash out and consume him. He tucked it away and she breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Voldemort’s soul?’ She asked curiously and he hummed in agreement.

‘We need to get this back to Hogwarts and destroy it.’ He sounded slightly urgent, so she swooned and made a loud gasping noise. She faked a stumble, catching herself clumsily against the nearest display case, which was enough to attract the museum owner’s attention again.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Fletcher, but I’m really feeling quite faint. Perhaps we could come back another time.’ Gellert’s blackened hands wrapped firmly around her upper arms as though he was helping to support her and the museum owner fell for their trick completely. They were led – at a painfully slow pace but one that was realistic if she really was feeling ill – to the doors, where Fletcher had already called an Abraxan carriage for them. Hermione struggled to maintain her act in the face of the new feature of the wizarding world.

‘Are these like taxis?’ She asked curiously as Fletcher appeared and sloshed a generous helping of whiskey into the horses’ nosebag.

‘Yes, I believe it was a joint venture between the Blacks and the Malfoys. The horses take payment of whiskey to drink, and a couple of galleons on arrival.’ He answered. Several muggles approached and patted the horse happily, seeming to not notice the massive wings that fluttered around their heads. The Abraxan tossed its head and rolled it’s eyes impatiently, so Gellert let it know that they were headed to Hogsmede and they climbed in.

The interior was large and luxurious with plush, comfortable seats and a tea service steaming ready for use. Hermione took the seat facing forwards, and peered out the small window, amazed to see that they were already in flight. She had to admit, the journey was so smooth, and the scenery whizzed past underneath them so fast that if she could afford it she would have happily spent a couple of galleons to travel this way more often. They travelled in silence, both mulling over their separate thoughts.

‘What do you mean by Voldemort’s soul?’ She finally asked, figuring the location was private enough to talk. He shifted in his seat as if considering how to best break bad news to her.

‘Albus had spent their lessons slowly sharing Voldemort’s history with Harry, planning to eventually show him what Voldemort discovered. I don’t understand why he feels the need to do it this way, so we eventually agreed that I would just tell you.’ He paused for a moment and she decided he must be trying to decide which parts to exclude. She had come to recognise that expression when they had focused on fighting inferi in DADA, where he wasn’t entirely certain how much it was appropriate to tell a teenager. In her case, she suspected he was actually slightly embarrassed to know so much that she blatantly disapproved of, or perhaps he didn’t want to admit to the true depth of his knowledge.

‘You are aware of the damage that committing a murder causes on the soul...’ he began and she nodded. She had seen the evidence close up on his soul. ‘There is a spell, or perhaps more accurately a ritual, which can use that damage to separate two sections of the soul and encase the separated piece in an object.’

‘But if the soul exists outside the body...’ She could hardly comprehend the implications, her own knowledge of soul magic being the vague brushes that other topics occasionally touched on.

‘Then the body can be destroyed without destroying the soul.’

‘So he is immortal, because of that segment of soul trapped on the living plane?’ She asked, catching on quickly.

‘Not exactly. His body can still be destroyed as Harry demonstrated, however the soul piece becomes a wraith until it can be restored to a form by a series of complex and incredibly dark potions, perhaps darker than the original act itself.’ He knew the potions, she could tell, but she doubted he had used them, the sneer in his voice as he spoke of it was evidence to that.

‘He’s not only made one has he?’ She asked, already knowing the answer. He can’t have, if this one was safely in Gellert’s property when he was resurrected. Although, how had Voldemort gotten on to Gellert’s property to use it in his dark magic. Unless he had properties that the ICW didn’t know about... somehow that didn’t surprise her at all.

‘No, Albus and I believe there are perhaps seven in total. One of which Harry destroyed in his second year, another of which Albus and I took care of during the holidays and the final one we have visited but have been unable to retrieve as of yet. This takes us to four.’

‘Why can’t you get the third?’ She asked curiously. Gellert and Albus were the most powerful wizards she knew, she couldn’t understand how they hadn’t managed to retrieve it.

‘Voldemort has used a method of limiting the number of people accessing it by power. Albus and I cannot go together, but it will be a two person job on the other side. I hope to make use of yourself and Harry, assuming that your underage magical cores won’t affect the enchantment.’

She loved being involved, of course she wanted to help defeat Voldemort but even with someone as powerful as Grindelwald accompanying them, this felt awfully unresearched.

‘Assuming?’ She asked nervously.

‘Well, I haven’t done any research into the possible spells he could have used. With Albus’ method of informing Harry we won’t be able to go again until sometime near the end of the year.’ Replied Gellert with a shrug.

‘Can I help in the meantime?’ She asked curiously and he shrugged again.

‘Research inferi, otherwise there’s no other indication of what we will face.’

‘Can you steal inferi?’ She asked curiously and Gellert’s head whipped around.

‘Yes, but it is not the kind of ritual you want to know about.’ He cautioned and she subsided quickly. He was right, she shouldn’t even consider such a course of action. The dead should be laid to rest. She almost regretted bringing it up, wondering if Gellert was now considering the idea.

The door sprung open, signalling that they had landed and Gellert climbed out first before helping her down. They had attracted the attention of several curious students, but they left the Abraxan to deal with the attention – a handful of gold in the enchanted bowl on the table and hurried off to Hogwarts.


End file.
